2103:12:21:23:57:10

  “It looks nice,” I said.

  “It looks like shit,” Amber said.

  “It’s just empty. Once we rebuild a lounge and get some equipment-”

  “Where?” she asked, rudely interrupting me. “We don’t have the space for it.”

  I shrugged. “Once we clear out the things we don’t need and clean up the place, there’ll be plenty of space for us to work with.”

  “It’s not just filthy, it’s old filthy,” she countered. “Are you gonna scrub for days and days to get all the oil stains out? Do you know how to repair the roof before it caves in on us? Are you hauling all the broken tools, rusted car parts and whatever the fuck else is lying around here to the dump? On the other side of The Hub? In the middle of the night?” She pointed her finger at me in accusation, breathing heavily from repressed emotion.

  I held up my hands and took a step back. This wasn’t the first time she’d gotten angry at the setback Nth-Sight – or Motorgang; Amber switched who to blame by the day – caused us. Far more so than me, the Intra-Cascadian had been a second home to her.

  Seeing me surrender, she sighed and calmed herself to a more reasonable level. “And even if we did all of that, there still won’t be enough space for us to work with.”

  To be honest, she was right. The garage was too small for an all-inclusive base, and my mentor didn’t want multiple ones spread out all over Northside. She wanted a place with a high roof and good floorspace so she can put both training equipment and amenities in, while also being isolated from their surroundings, some distance away from residential areas and close enough to Northside for easy patrolling. In other words, she wanted the Intra-Cascadian.

  Which was understandable, except, “Where else can we go?” I said. “Even if it’s rundown, this is the biggest place in Northside we’ve found so far. There simply aren’t any isolated, abandoned warehouses here, and you said taking over an abandoned house was too risky, and that the Northside-The Hub border’s both too full and too close to the Intra-Cascadian, and you refuse to move deeper into The Hub.” I threw up my hands again, this time in frustration.

  That last point especially was where Amber and I disagreed on the most. We could move quickly and easily over great distances, so there was absolutely no reason not to scout for a base deeper into The Hub. Hell, we could even go to Portside and still be close enough for patrols, strikes, and respond to emergencies in Northside.

  “And I told you, it’s too far away,” Amber said.

  It was an argument we’ve had twice before, but this time I decided to push further.

  “But why?” I asked. “I know it’s not because you’re not capable; we’ve run much farther and for far longer, before and after fights. I just don’t see what the problem is.”

  She crossed her arms. “Well, unlike you, I don’t have endless reserves of energy.” I could almost imagine her pouting.

  “You sure?” I asked, skeptically. “Because the things you do; regular people can’t do those kind of stunts without beyond-Olympian levels of exercise. And since you’re still going to school, there’s no way you’re doing that.”

  Amber didn’t say anything, only kicking up some dust and gravel in response.

  “Look, I know you’ve got some kind of super-category sub-power,” I said. “What I don’t get is why you’ve never told me about it.”

  She was silent for a moment longer. “Okay, okay. Fine,” she said. “But only if you tell me yours in return.”

  I froze, thoughts scrambling as a silent alarm blared panic! panic! into my brain.

  Thankfully, where my mind panicked, my mouth acted. “My what?”

  “Your other power,” she said, gesturing vaguely. “The augur one. Or the master one, or whatever category it falls under. The one that makes you learn so quickly.”

  My mind calmed down instantly. Perfect recall and photographic memory and the like weren’t too uncommon a power, even as a sub-power, and mine wasn’t even that great. It was the least of my secrets she could’ve found, even less than me not needing to eat and whatnot.

  So, I acquiesced. “Fair enough.

  Another moment of silence before Amber huffed. “You go first.”

  “What?” I said, frowning. “Why? I asked it first.”

  “Because I said so,” she said. “Shouldn’t you listen to your teachers, miss I-only-get-straight-tens?”

  I had to urge to stick out my tongue, and I would have if I weren’t wearing a mask. She was exaggerating; I got sixes and sevens for History and Literature. And it wasn’t like she was doing bad at school or anything.

  “Fine, whatever. Let me be the better friend here then,” I said, gathering my thoughts. “Well, basically, I… sort of remember everything.”

  “Sort of?” she asked. “So, not really?”

  “It’s more like I’ve got a thing inside me that monitors and stores everything I sense – see, hear, smell, taste, feel; stuff like that.” Though it extended to not-so-common senses, like balance, pain, blood pressure, respiration, though only insofar as people felt them normally. “I call them memcordings.” She snorted at the name, but I elected to ignore it. “I’ve had it since the day I woke up, and have been incorporating stuff from it ever since.”

  “Incorporating?” she asked. “How do you incorporate a memory?”

  “It’s less of a memory and more of a…” I hesitated, having trouble finding the right word. “A record’s the best word for it, I guess.” Hence memcording. “An incomplete record of a moment in time.” Then, a better word hit me. “Like a diary! Except automatic, with instant access and a lot more info.”

  Amber tilted her head. “How’s that different from just remembering everything?”

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  Unbeknownst to her, I frowned in annoyance underneath my mask. Not because of my mentor, but because of the limitations of this part of my androidhood.

  “Because like a diary, it feels strangely external, you know? While you might’ve written down something in your diary two months ago, you’d still need to find it again to access it.” My frown grew heavier. “Except it’s even worse than that. It’s like an endless video that’s also continuously recording. Sure, I can rewind instantly, but it’s not like I can timestamp the thing, or split it into different files or something like it. If I don’t know the date or at least the week something took place in, well, too bad! And I can’t just keep memorizing dates without memorizing the stuff itself; that’s just beyond pointless because I’d still have to spend time to recall and analyze it. It’s also really, really annoying to do, and becomes even more annoying the longer I live – and isn’t that an awful thought to have! I’ve only been around for a few months and already my memcordings are getting cluttered to the point-!”

  “Alright, alright,” Amber interrupted me. “Jeeze, I’ve never seen someone get that annoyed at their own powers before.”

  I ran my hands through the floppy bits of my crown, feeling ashamed. “I mean, it’s still useful, but…” I shrugged. Unlike most, I had a someone I could squarely put the blame on for these powers. But of course, I couldn’t exactly say that.

  “But if it’s that… well, like that, how can you still learn so quick?”

  “Oh, that’s easy. You know I don’t need to sleep, right?” She nodded. “So basically, I’ve got the whole night to watch back and incorporate the stuff I spent doing during the day. Even when we’ve gone masking, I’ve still got, like, four hours or so to do it, which is plenty. I can review the day’s memcordings on, like, a times-ten speed or something to skim through the day, then spent extra attention focusing in on the more important events, you know? Like masked fights or important conversations.”

  Amber was silent for a moment. “You spent the entire night re-experiencing the past day?” she asked.

  I blinked. “Well… yes, basically. I mean, I do some other stuff as well, like mastering forms, doing homework, studying, going through the exercises you’ve taught me – those sorts of things.”

  Silence reigned after my words.

  Then, Amber sighed. “Jezus, Sam.”

  “What?”

  “Do you ever take breaks or something?”

  I was confused. “I mean, I do masking, sambo, have school, and just today we skateboarded and hung out and stuff.”

  “Okay, listen. One: school is not time off, especially since you just said you also spent time learning in the middle of the night.”

  “But I enjoy school,” I countered. It was easy enough, at times interesting, and I got to hang out with friends; what’s not to like?

  “Two,” she continued, bypassing my devastating counter-argument, “masking also doesn’t count as time off. And I do count both training and mastering forms as masking time.” I didn’t, so that was a bad argument. “Which means you’re spending waaaaaay too much time on it for it to be healthy.”

  “Pot, meet kettle.” Really, not counting the memcording stuff, I’m sure she spent far more time masking than I did.

  “Three: I’m sure you like sambo, but I’m fairly certain half the reason you like it is because you can use it while masking.” Well, that was true enough. Unlike skateboarding, which I found I liked for its own sake, I still sometimes struggled with whether my love for sambo was programmed or not, and whether or not that distinction even mattered.

  Amber continued. “Four: hanging out is fun and all, but don’t you ever have time for yourself? Especially with your Mom helicoptering around you whenever she can.”

  “I’ve plenty of free time.”

  “When?”

  “Well, during the night for one.”

  “The nights you just admitted you use for training, homework and more training?”

  It was my turn to ignore her. “And after remedials I have some time before Mom comes home. Besides, I think hanging out with Mom, and you, and Millie and them counts as time for myself.”

  My mentor took a moment to think. “Okay, fine,” she said. “It’s not like I know how to live the perfect life, but I do know people need some alone time every once in a while. To process things and stuff. Which is especially relevant since you’ve been acting different since the whole… Nth-Sight thing.”

  I frowned – again, unseen behind my mask. “Different how?”

  She sighed. “I don’t know,” she said. “You get lost in thought more often, aren’t as focused at times.” She rubbed her beak. “Look, I’m not good at this. I’m just worried, alright?”

  Once more, I was of two minds on things. One part of me thought ‘how nice, having my friend-and-mentor worrying about me’, while the other sounded the alarm of ‘DON’T LET HER DIG TOO DEEP!’ once again.

  I didn’t really like that latter one.

  “Thanks, but I’m doing fine for the most part.” I saw her move to speak, so I hastily continued. “Not perfect, but I’m working on it.” Then, to placate her further, I added, “Been talking with my therapist and stuff.”

  “…You talked about it with your therapist,” she said.

  Ah. “Don’t worry, I didn’t say anything about your identity.”

  “That’s not what I-!” she began raising her voice before just as suddenly cutting herself off. “No, that’s fine. Just… get whatever help you need.”

  I waited for a moment, weighing her words – specifically, weighing their sincerity. Weighing whether there’s a chance she’ll keep digging into my situation, and into my secrets. Thankfully, I found nothing to worry about, and to be honest, didn’t even know why I was worried in the first place.

  “Thanks,” I said.

  She nodded.

  The silence stretched – a comfortable one, but still a silence.

  “Your turn, by the way,” I reminded her.

  “Hm?”

  “Your secondary power?” I said. “Or sub-power, or whatever it is.”

  “Ah. Well, as you thought: it’s super,” she said. She was silent for a second. “Basically, I can delay fatigue for a time. Blackhawk called it ‘maintaining stamina debt’. I can keep going for as long as I like, but I’ll have to pay it back later, with compounded interest and stuff. If I continue it long enough, and accrue too much debt, then eventually the ‘interest’ will kill me.” I opened my mouth, but she continued. “Not that that’ll ever happen. I can pay most of it back just by eating and drinking a lot, paying it off with calories and nutrients. Why do you think I drink so much Semminon Plus+?”

  “And it was part of your…?” I asked.

  “Inheritance?” she asked in turn.

  I nodded.

  “Yep,” she said. “The knife part is all me, but the stamina debt was partly taught, partly passed-on to me, along with some better vision – both regular and low-light – and overall greater understanding of my body.”

  “Cool,” I said sincerely.

  “Thanks,” she said dryly. “Unfortunately, I don’t think I can pass it down to you since it goes from one master to another. Master powers, I mean, not student and mentor. Although that as well, but obviously you’re-”

  “That’s fine,” I said, interrupting her. “I won’t benefit much from it anyhow, I think. And you’ll probably get another sidekick once we’re adult heroes or something.”

  “Hm,” she hm-ed in agreement, turning away from me.

  She looked at the garage for a moment, before sighing. “Know what?”

  “What?”

  “Let’s look for a base deeper into The Hub.”

  Finally.

  X

  As expected, it didn’t take long until we found a good abandoned space to make our new base. It was an old, stripped-down factory once belonging to Malik’s Maker Machinery and Machinations, a once-staple industrial enterprise of Charm. Not that they made maker-tech machinery or anything of the sort, but they were responsible for pioneering a variety of specific, maker-derivative machines and machine parts for other industries. Most notably, parts for the intercontinental shuttles and makers like Chloroplasticity, known for, as his name might suggest, her de-maker-fied superefficient solar panels and plant-grown plastics, and Keplyrica, head of the Guardians portion of the Atmospheric Guard.

  Supposedly, Malik had been friend and henchman to a masked maker rogue that later turned professional, and like Mr. Evergreen and his Evergreen's Periodically Appropriate Dresses, had retained the typical masquerade-type flair for names. That, or Malik had been the maker himself.

  The 4M factory was one of many industries that got booted out from Charm as it grew more and more populated. Not that the company itself minded; it had gotten all but completely automated, and when all that outsider capital started flowing in from Southeast Asia, it moved deeper into the American heartland that’d only just begun to get re-pacified and resettled after the end of the Dark Age. Land was cheap there, ruined as it was by decades of irresponsible power use, villainy and regular old pollution, and there were practically no people to complain to them constructing their plant there.

  Hence there being a lot of abandoned warehouses, derelict factories and foreclosed offices of dependent businesses in The Hub. Hence my comment that we should be looking deeper in The Hub.

  “I told you s-”

  “Shut up,” Amber said, as we entered the building. “Just because you were right doesn’t mean you have to gloat about it.”

  Says the one all but bullying Nth-Sight to death less than two weeks ago.

  …My mood fell immediately at the thought.

  “Though it’s not like we can really use it,” Amber said.

  I shook off my spiraling mood and asked, “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, it’s nice we’ve got the space, and it’s doubly nice that everything seems to have been cleared out…” We both looked toward the piles of scrap metal and torn-open trash bags from someone illegally dumping here. “For the most part, anyway. But we can’t afford the amenities we had before, not right now.”

  “I can pitch in.”

  “You’ve got, what? Less than 2k in that account of yours?” I nodded. “Yeah, and I’ve got around three. The Jannacht Wars haven’t been a great opportunity for us to build funds, and definitely not after fucking Motorgang destroyed all our stuff.” She was back to blaming Motorgang again. “Unless we want to steal power, a decent generator itself would cost at least 3k or so, and since it’d be shit compared to our previous one we’d have to deal with fuel costs as well. Add to that getting running water and plumbing, a fridge, dummies, boxing bags, dumbbells, couches, chairs, tables, food and drink, some security… We just don’t have the money for it.”

  That was… “Why didn’t you say anything?” I asked.

  “When was I supposed to say it?” she countered reflexively, then sighed. “Didn’t think we’d find a base so soon. At the very least I thought we could’ve brought in a few Motorgang henchies or Jannacht remnants. Rob them blind and hand their stuff over to the cops, get ourselves some nice ‘commission’ out of it and save. I didn’t expect things to get so… quiet immediately after the whole Nth-Sight thing. Doubly so now that we don’t have an augur informant to give us targets and jump-start our own leads.”

  That was understandable. Everyone – even the heroes, according to Millie – was still acclimating to the new normal, along with pondering what the ‘new normal’ even looked like.

  Amber and I were no different in that regard. Nth-Sight really screwed us over with his whole-

  Wait. “I know where we can get some money,” I said.

  Amber’s head snapped to me. “Where,” she demanded.

  “There’s a very nice, very expensive car sitting in a garage somewhere. One completely abandoned by its owner, and in very good condition as well. Even better, I’m completely, one-hundred-percent sure we can legally claim it as spoils. And if not… well, the last owner owes us a bit of a debt, don’t you think?”

  Amber tilted her head at me, and I could imagine the vicious grin as she said, “You know Sam? I think it’s high time we collect.”