8FOLD: Cal Plus Raidne # 2, "Genuis or Mastermind?"

[Amabel Holland]

Cal Morgan – THE MIGHTY INCH – is head over heels for their gal
Raidne! They're really cute together!

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NUMBER TWO: GENIUS OR MASTERMIND?
[8F-209][PW-53]

------- ME AND MY MUTUALS ------------------

Cal Morgan, THE MIGHTY INCH, age 18. They/them.
It's me! Only an inch tall! So tiny! Good at punching! So mighty! I'm
pretty okay, mostly.

Raidne, age N/A. She/her.
A.I. that lives in my suit! She's funny, and smart, and sexy, and 101%
awesome. Plus she's in love with me for some reason! I don't get it
either, but I'll take it!

Lily Green, THE LIVING UWU, age 26. She/her.
Marxist catgirl (but not that kind of catgirl). Extremely online.
Makes you feel kinda warm and fuzzy all over.

Lola Brodeur, DUST DEVIL, age 23. She/her.
Cyborg who does cyclone stuff. Human head on a super-spindly body with
like these thin metal tubes for limbs. We actually have more in common
than I thought at first, she seems pretty rad.

Peter Sampson, FAHRENHEIT MAN, age 33. He/him.
Oh look at me, I'm Fahrenheit Man, I'm a big dork who is on fire all
the time, and also my wife is a rock star who hit Cal with a shrink
ray and ruined their life, what, no, I'm not bitter what are you
talking about.

Bethany Clayton, KNOCKOUT MOUSE, age 32. She/her.
Leader of the Daylighters (btw we're part of the Daylighters). Good at
punching I guess for an old person. I don't know her super-well, she's
friends with my sister Kate.

Kate Morgan, SHIMMER, age 31. She/her.
Speaking of which: it's my sister, who also basically raised me. We
get along better now than we used to, but it's complicated? Fraught?
Anyway, she can phase through matter and now also she does magic
apparently so there's that.

--------------------------------------------

As Cal slowly climbs down the spiral stairs – walking to the edge of
the step, hanging over its edge, dropping gently down to the next,
repeat – Raidne lets them know that Bethany is calling. "Patch her
through, hon. Hello?"

   "Hey. Raidne said the inventory came up funky?"

   "Yeah," says Cal. "Nothing missing, but something new turned up.
Peter said it's a black cube or sphere."

   "Uh, those are kinda different shapes?"

   "That's what I said. He said it depends on how you look at it."

   "Lovely. Any chance it's something that just got missed in previous
inventories? Seven Wonders accumulated a lot of whizz-bangs over the
decades."

   Raidne breaks in. "I don't think that's likely. I've reviewed
eighty-four percent of their archives and there's nothing fitting the
description."

   "What about the other sixteen percent?"

   Raidne clicks her non-existent teeth in embarrassment. "I don't
have access to those. I suspect they're cases involving the Gorgon and
other malicious AI lifeforms."

   Cal doesn't pull any punches. "Guess you don't want her getting any ideas."

   Bethany isn't pleased with Cal's attitude. "It's a holdover from
when Medusa went online. You'll have access within the hour. But let's
assume you come up empty. Cal, what are you thinking?"

   "I'm thinking the Palette Gang didn't break into the Lighthouse to
grab the useless gewgaw we caught them with. It was to plant this
sphere cube thing."

   "Which is why we need to figure out what it is."

   "Peter's running some tests with the old Wonders tech. There's some
kind of energy signature, but he can't pin it down. It's not cosmic
star-stuff, it's not good old fashioned radiation. It's I dunno what."

   "Could be magic," says Bethany. "Lot of that going around lately.
I'm going to send Kate to take a look at it."

   "Great," mumbles Cal.

   "What was that?"

   "Nothing," Cal singsongs.

   "Luckily the whatever-it-is isn't the only thing they left behind,"
says Bethany. "I'm gonna go ask Red Phantom some questions, and I'm
gonna try and scrap together another team to try and find his brothers
while you and yours keep watch."

   "Sounds like a plan. Hey, there is something else I've been thinking."

   "Go ahead."

   "We're working off the assumption that they meant to leave it here.
What if we were meant to find it? After all, there is actual useful
tech and such. But they didn't try to steal any of that, even as a
feint. They stole something that's utterly useless, and then when they
had a chance to make off with it, they left it behind."

   "So they figure we're gonna scratch our head about it, and then run
an inventory and then, boom, now there's this mysterious whichever?"

   "Something like that."

   "It's a possibility," says Bethany.

   "Or I could be overthinking it."

   "Or you could be overthinking it," says Bethany. "It's really gonna
depend on who hired them, on whether we're dealing with a genius or a
mastermind."

   "There's a difference?"

   "It's something Derek told me once. One is smart, and the other
thinks they're smart. You got the guy that legit plays four-dee chess,
moves and countermoves, 'I know that you know' and so on. There's a
few of those out there. But most of 'em think they're Professor
flipping Moriarty but can't beat a toddler at checkers."

   "Which is the genius, and which the mastermind?"

   "Neither," says Bethany. "Because if you have to tell folks what a
genius or mastermind you are, you're not."

   "That definitely sounds like something Derek would come up with,"
says Cal a little sourly.

   "Oh, it goes way back. I heard it from Derek, but he heard it from
his mentor, who heard it from his, who heard it from et cetera. Goes
back to the thirties or forties."

()

As Cal continues their descent, Peter appears and offers his palm.
They climb aboard; it feels like sitting a hot stone.

   "If you had called, I would have flown with the speed of a comet,"
he says as he flies down the stairwell.

   "I know," says Cal. "But sometimes you wanna do things on your own."

   Peter nods, his jaw set in grim determination. "I know it well,
friend. Even I, the famously gregarious Fahrenheit Man, have at times
sought solitude as my helpmeet."

   They stare at him in disbelief. "Do you practice these lines, or do
they just come to you?"

   His face flushes red with embarrassment. "A little of both," he
squeaks, quietly and nervously.

   Cal can tell that they've struck a nerve. "Sorry, that was out of line."

   "Here we are," Peter deflects as he finishes his descent. Lola and
Lily are already waiting outside the storeroom where the doodad was
discovered.

   "Now just to wait for Kate," says Cal.

()

They don't wait for long. Lola is admiring (or hating? hard to tell)
the faint echo of her reflection in the night-blackened window when
that reflection changes. Kate steps out of the reflection, looking a
little haggard.

   "Note to self," she says, "windows are harder to walk through than mirrors."

   "I'll keep that in mind," says Cal.

   "How's your little slumber party in the Lighthouse going?"

   "So far so good."

   Kate looks pointedly at Peter. "You know, Cal, if I knew there were
gonna be boys, I wouldn't have approved."

   The joke is meant to be harmless, but it hits Cal right in the gut.
Kate loves them. Accepts them. Is even getting better with the new
pronouns. But deep down she still sees Cal as a girl. Maybe she'll
always see Cal as a girl.

   "Oh," interjects Lola, "well, Peter's practically one of the girls anyway."

   At this bit of teasing, his palm suddenly and briefly sizzles. To
Cal, it feels like an electric blanket suddenly turning on.

   It's at this point that Kate becomes aware that Lily has been
staring at her this entire time, goggle-eyed. "Is she okay?" Kate asks
Cal.

   "Generally? No."

   "Suh, suh, sorry," Lily stammers. "I just didn't know Cal's sister
was Doctor Metronome."

   "I go by Shimmer now, actually. New costume and everything."

   "Looks nice. Green suits you."

   Kate looks at her curiously. "Have we met?"

   "No!" Lily blurts. "Uh, no. No. I'm just. A big fan? So, uh, hey.
I'm gonna get some air? Because I just remembered that I need air?"
She slaps her forehead. "Just like me to forget. It's for my powers.
To recharge them. To recharge my powers, I need to be exposed to air
once every hour, so I'm going to get some. Some air."

   "Hey," Cal interjects, "I could use some air too. Take me with you,
it'll give Kate some time to do her thing. Peter, Lola, hold down the
fort."

   Lily reluctantly offers her hand. Cal climbs from one palm to
another, leaving Peter's nervous warmth behind. Lily's hand is cooler
to the touch, but tingles with gentle waves of subtle, mellow
euphoria.

()

The night air is crisp.

   "So," says Cal, "do you want to tell me what that was all about?"

   "I don't know what you're talking about."

   "You're a terrible liar."

   "I am," admits Lily. "So, uh, I might have met your sister before."

   "What a shocker," Cal deadpans. But then something suddenly occurs
to them; Lily's been doing this less than a year. "Oh my gosh, I know
why she doesn't remember you. For a good chunk of this year Claire
Belden was pretending to be her. That's probably when you had your
team-up?"

   Lily shakes her head. "This was a long time ago. I was going by a
different name. And." Her voice cracks. "And I wouldn't exactly call
it a team-up."

   "You were a black cape," realizes Cal.

   "Well, technically, legally?, you're only a black cape if you get
caught. I, I didn't hurt anyone, Cal. And I thought I was in the
right. Convinced myself it was justified. Look, I was confused. I
mean, obviously I was confused: I still thought I was a boy. But I
also thought I got away with it, that I could start over."

   "You can," says Cal. "You did. This isn't really a big deal, not
really. There are plenty of folks that started on the other side of
it. You were a supervillain for a hot minute, had a run-in with Kate,
turned yourself around."

   "Well," says Lily.

   "Well what?"

   "It was more than one run-in. It was, like, eight? Or seven? I
guess it depends what constitutes a run-in exactly."

   "Hold up," says Cal. "You were a black cape, tussled with my sister
multiple times, never got caught?"

   "That about sums it up."

   "Buzzkill?"

   Lily winces, then nods. "Can you not use that name? It's not
exactly as bad as my deadname but it has a lot of the same resonance,
if that makes any sense."

   "I feel you," says Cal. "Weren't your powers like directly the
opposite of what they are now?"

   "Eh, same powers," says Lily. "Different expression. Basically I'm
just like a vibe, right? Before, I was a bad vibe, and now, I'm a good
vibe."

   Cal nods, feeling Lily's aura of warm fuzzies spreading blissfully
throughout their miniature body. "Well, your secret is safe with us."

   "Absolutely," echoes Raidne.

   "Kate really hated you," says Cal, laughing. "When they thought I
wasn't listening, my brother and her would complain about you getting
away all the flipping time."

   "Really?" says Lily, fascinated. "Like, was I her archnemesis?"

   "Well," qualifies Cal, "you weren't not her archnemesis."

   Lily beams.

()

Cal meets Kate alone in the room with the hooziwhatsit. It's Cal's
first look at the object that's been variously described as either a
cube or a sphere or both, and a quick and unnerving gander reveals
that it is both, and yet neither.

   "Best not to look at it for too long," advises Kate.

   "So, is it magic?"

   "Not as far as I can tell. Frequency is strange too." She shimmers
her hand, making it intangible, and passes it through the object for a
handful of seconds. The entire room shakes and blurs around them. When
Kate withdraws her hand, everything goes still again.

   "Well, that was disconcerting."

   "I have one more trick up my sleeve but I need to grab one of my
spellbooks from home. I just wanted to wait until you got back. You
know, from getting air." There's something pointed about this, and Cal
knows that Kate expects them to respond. When they decline, Kate
presses on anyway. "I don't want to tell you how to run your squad."

   "Then don't."

   "But it's not your job to mother them."

   The comment slips between Cal's ribs like a knife. What makes the
wound sting like a fresh squeeze of citrus is that Cal knows it, like
the slumber party joke, was accidental. "Mother" in this context, as
Kate used it, is really genderless, and Cal knows that. If Kate was
talking to a cis man, she would still have said "mother". And Cal also
knows that they can't really complain about it, that Kate will just
roll her eyes and tell them they're being tetchy. Kate thinks her
sibling is tetchy about everything, and that these little harmless
things – common everyday turns of speech – shouldn't bother them. And
Cal supposes that Kate is right in a way, that none of these things on
their own, in isolation, is worth an argument. It's just that there's
so many of them every single day, all these tiny little needles
picking at Cal, leaving them raw and angry and exhausted.

   Kate continues. "They're professionals, not children. Colleagues,
not friends."

   "Literally all of your friends are superheroes."

   "Not all of them," says Kate sourly. Then: "Okay, all of them. But
they were colleagues first. Because it's the job that comes first."

   "You think I can't do the job? You think I'm not good at it?"

   "I think you're good," says Kate. "There's a reason why you're
leading a squad. Why you have a seat at the table, why you're one of
the big seven. I think the world of you, Cal. I believe that you can
do great things. Want you to do great things. That's literally why I'm
telling you, this touchy-feely approach isn't what you want here."

   "I'll take it under advisement," says Cal, a little icily.

   Raidne pipes up. "Not to interrupt."

   "What's up babe?"

   "I finished going through the files Bethany authorized. No mention
of anything like this."

   "That's what we had figured, but it's nice to rule that out. So, we
more-or-less know for sure that the doohickey was planted, not
overlooked."

   "We know a little more than that," says Raidne. "We know how they
got in in the first place – the massive hole in the side of the
concrete walls is a bit of a clue – but we didn't know how they got
past the Lighthouse's security systems. They had help. A malicious
construct, hidden in the archive files themselves."

   "How long has it been hiding in there?" says Kate.

   "That I don't know," says Raidne. "Unfortunately, I had to," she
falters, "terminate its processes."

   "Oh, I'm so sorry, hon," says Cal. "I know that's gotta be hard for
you, to have to make that choice. To take a life."

   Kate stifles a brief and exasperated sigh. Cal knows their sister
doesn't consider constructs to really be alive, so why get upset when
it stops living? A lot of the Daylighters feel that way, and, like,
Cal gets it: you spend years and decades fighting Shakespeare robots
and genocidal computer viruses, it sits easier with you,
morality-wise, if you think of them as objects. Plus they've been
raised, everyone's been raised, to equate "life" with organic
processes, and to endow it with some sacred flipping mystery, some
divine but immeasurable energy.

   A common argument Cal runs into on the internet (stay off the
internet, Cal) is that with a construct, you can read every line of
code, you can figure out exactly what decision it will reach, and when
you can't, well, it's just RNG. It doesn't count, it's not real, it's
just lines of code doing what it's programmed to do. But Cal's
listened to synthetic symphonies and thinks they're gorgeous. They've
read poetry written in zenzizenzizenzic meter with a waterfall rhyme
scheme and it resonated deeply.

   Most of all, they love Raidne, and have felt her love in return.

   And as much as Kate might not think it's real – as much as she
might want to chide Cal for being concerned for the feelings of lines
of code because those lines had to end another set of lines of code –
she doesn't. Not within earshot of Raidne, anyway. So, deep down, she
knows. Knows that Raidne is alive, knows that Raidne has feelings that
can be hurt.

   Deep down, Cal is certain, they all know. "They just pretend that
they don't," Cal whispers to themselves, "and that breaks my heart."

()

Bethany calls while Kate is zipping back home.

   "How's the interrogation going?" asks Cal.

   "Lousy. It's not that he's uncooperative. After his brothers left
him twisting in the wind, he's more than happy to burn it all down."

   "Ah, siblings," says Cal.

   "Glad I'm an only child," says Bethany. "He's singing, but it's
nothing new. Someone paid them to break in, drop off the doodad, steal
the scepter, fight whoever came calling, then skedaddle without the
scepter. Doesn't know who hired them, never met them face-to-face, but
the kind of money that was being thrown around, they didn't ask any
questions. Oh, and he said that their employer would ensure the
security system wouldn't put up any fuss, but we already know how they
did that."

   "I'm not so sure of that," says Raidne. "I've been shifting through
the wreckage of the rogue construct, and I've found when the file got
into the archives. Timestamp is just a few minutes after the inventory
system logged the unknown object."

   "Well, I don't like that," says Bethany.

   "Me neither," says Cal. "They wanted us to run the inventory,
wanted us to find it, so that the construct could get into the system.
Raidne, what did they want?"

   "That was hard for me to parse," admits Raidne. "Most of the time
with malicious constructs, there's a clear motive, a kind of
calculating logic, or some imperative. But he had none of that. Just
madness. Just hate."

   "Lovely," says Bethany. "Good news is you nipped it in the bud. So
whatever else we're dealing with, we won't have to worry about some
insane murderbot taking control of the Lighthouse."

   "Hey," says Cal, "can you watch it with the m-word?"

   "It's okay," says Raidne quickly and nervously.

   "It's not," asserts Cal.

   "No, it's not," says Bethany. "Sorry, Raidne. Something I'm trying
to weed out of the vocab. I can do better."

   "Um," says Cal, "what do you mean by taking control of the Lighthouse?"

   "The Lighthouse itself is a super-computer," says Bethany. "It was
incredibly advanced for its time, in the forties. Over the decades,
the Wonders updated her as best as they were able. But there's only so
much you can bolt onto that hardware. Poor old girl's been obsolete
for decades, can barely run. Still. The Wonders integrated her with a
bunch of alien tech, mystical wards, all that jazz. And you don't want
a rogue construct getting their hands on that kind of whammy."

   "It's one reason why I acted as quickly as I did," explains Raidne.
"I just couldn't take any chances. I would have otherwise."

   "I know you would have, babe," Cal reassures her.

   "We have to assume that whoever's behind this, the construct was
only one part of their plan," says Bethany. "This thingamajig is too
weird to just be a glorified USB port."

   "We'll keep you updated."

()

Kate's back, carrying what seems to be an impossibly thick book in the
crook of her arm. "Heads up," she tells Cal and their squad, "if you
hear a scratching noise? Like a cat at the door? Ignore it. It's just
the book."

   "So, what's the plan?" asks Cal.

   "Psychometry," says Kate. "Object-reading. Where it's been, who has
handled it, what they were feeling."

   Underneath their leather cover, the pages scratch furiously.

   "Is it safe?" asks Peter.

   "It's magic," says Kate. "Of course it's not safe. I might get
transported to where it's been. Or I might be trapped in the memories
of someone who touched it. Or torn apart by a thousand hands, each
with a thousand fingers. That's if I get it wrong."

   "And if you get it right?"

   "Devoured by a thousand mouths, each with a thousand teeth. Or
instead of reading the object, the object will read me, and I know it
doesn't sound like it, but that's the worst possible outcome." She
smiles. "Or it just tells me what I want to know, and the world keeps
spinning for another day."

   "Gonna hope for that last one," says Cal.

   "Cross your fingers," says Kate. "And whatever you do, whatever you
hear," as if on cue, the pages of the book begin scraping like
sharpening knives, "do not, under any circumstances, come into the
room."

   "But what if," Cal begins.

   "Not under any circumstances," says Kate. "If I need help, you
won't be able to give it to me."

   "This seems dire," says Peter. "Is this little bauble worth such risk?"

   "Wouldn't be doing it otherwise," says Kate. "Like I told Cal, the
frequency of the thing – the hum of its atoms – isn't right. Maybe
it's harmless. Maybe it's a threat to all reality. Only one way to
find out."

()

While they all wait, Cal's full-sized squad mates make what passes for
water cooler talk in their profession – did you hear about Rick?, he's
got a clone now, right?, no, he was the clone – and Cal watches them.
Lily talks with her hands, sporadic and wild and unpredictable. With
Lola, every movement, every pose, is significant, pointed, purposeful.
And then there's Peter, stiff and awkward. Stiff and awkward like he's
just gotten a new body that he's not used to yet, never mind that he's
had it his whole life. He moves like his skin is too tight. Cal
remembers what that felt like.

   But just as they start remembering why that felt that way, and what
it meant, they quite suddenly start remembering a white hand. White
like snow – no, that's too bright, a paler white, white like teeth.
No. White with a little blue. White starved for air, pale and dead,
with long moving stretching fingers touching and scratching and
sliding and snapping Cal's parts into place.

   White face, white with a little blue, mouthless, utterly mouthless,
with a nose like a snake (shallow little slits, gently flaring) and
eyes, black eyes, black and wet.

   "Uh," says Lily, "is anyone else remembering things that never happened?"

   "White face?" says Peter. "No mouth?"

   "Yes," says Lola. "More than one face now." Cal remembers them too.
"They're giants."

   "Or we're small," says Cal. "I think it's Kate's spell. Memories of
the object, leaking into our brains."

   "Into mine as well," says Raidne. "Well, that's really validating."

   "This is when it was made," says Cal. "These pale people, they're
putting us – putting it – together."

   "Creating files," says Raidne. "Inputting code. The code I found. I
think I – yes. I think I can read the code. I think I can remember
it."

   White faces have white necks, and into those necks run black tubes.
Cal remembers the tubes, remembers the cold thick liquid passing into
their neck, remembers doing their part to put the beacon together.
Wait, the beacon?

   "It's some kind of beacon," says Cal.

   "But what's it for?" says Peter.

   They search their new memories and find the answer. More white
faces, white with a little blue and mouthless, black wet eyes, black
dry uniforms, long fingers wrapping around long knives and glowing
spears.

   "Invasion force," says Cal. "From another earth. That's why the
frequency is wrong; it's not from our universe. Is that Darkhorse?"

   "Yes, it's her," says Lola. "Talking to them. I can hear the words,
I know they're in English, but I can't understand them?"

   "That's because they can't," say Cal. "Not literally, anyway. She's
asking them to join us and the other earths. Against the Pulse.
Because after they're done with us, they're going to move on to the
rest of the multiverse."

   "They're turning her down," says Peter.

   "They're making a plan," says Cal. "Sending an envoy to the Pulse.
They'll invade the earth, open up a second front in the war. In
exchange, the Pulse leaves their universe alone."

   "The Pulse agreed," says Peter.

   "Obviously," says Lola. "The beacon will bring them to wherever it
is once they cross over. But they need a way to get from one universe
to the next."

   "That's what the construct was for," remembers Cal. "To take
control of the Lighthouse, and use its advanced tech to open a big
portal."

   "Oh no," says Raidne. "This code. I've seen it before."

   "In the construct you destroyed?"
   "No," says Raidne. "In the other archive files. In all of them."

   "What?"

   "They didn't just hide in one file, they hid in all of them," says
Raidne. "Fragments of code scattered randomly across tens of thousands
of files, looking like gibberish. The construct I encountered, it was
just a feint. It was meant to be found. Meant to be destroyed, so that
we'd think we were safe. Killing it activated the other code. Brought
it together. Brought it to life."

   "What are you saying, babe?" says Cal.

   The lights go out. In the pitch blackness, they hear an echo, a
voice that sounds white with a little blue, a voice with black wet
eyes. "Exactly what you think she's saying."

COPYRIGHT 2023 AMABEL HOLLAND