The Blower File: Part 1

Those who look to and live for the future often assume that the course of time turns around large and important events. They believe that the way to steer the course of history is by creating and manipulating such events. But those of us who look at the past know that it is just as often the small and almost invisible events which are significant. For instance, in all the records of the Futureplex, those events which are recorded in 'The Blower File' are considered by most to be of minimal importance. Though there were dramatic events recorded there, it seemed in the end that nothing of great significance happened. When all was said and done, many said that more was said than done, that it was not so much an event as it was a conversation. And I can only say that you know nothing of life if you think a conversation is not an event or that the actions of the mind may not have as great an effect on the world as actions of the body.

--Kenneth Solkore, The Futureplex

He thought he saw an Argument

That proved he was the Pope:

He looked again, and found it was

A Bar of Mottled Soap.

'A Fact so dread,' he faintly said,

Extinguishes all hope!'

--Lewis Carroll, Sylvie and Bruno Concluded--

He passed, as swift and silent as the wind, over the fields and rolling hills, the rustling waters, and green forests. Yet for the moment none of these things held his interest. His eyes were fastened on the towering, snow-capped peak directly ahead of him. The complicated numbers and readings which hovered wraithlike in front of his right eye told him he was approaching his destination, a fact which he knew from frequent experience anyway. And yet he could never quite believe either his instruments or his experience as he saw the white, impassible mountain before him. Still, he kept a mental countdown as he approached and, when he reached zero, he cut his velocity almost to nothing by a flick of his thumb against the control rod. He drifted for a few seconds, counting mentally to ten and then began speeding up again, slowly dropping in altitude. Where the mountain peak had appeared moments before there was now a plethora of gleaming white towers and domes.

He had entered the territory of the Futureplex.

Dropping slowly, he landed on a large balcony at the lower center of the main building, the light plastic exoskeleton he wore collapsing as his feet touched the ground. Within seconds, it was compact enough that he could stick it into his pocket and pass into the building.

As he stepped into the building, he could tell that something was up, something interesting but not urgent. There was a slightly heightened hum of conversation, a general change in the atmosphere. He stopped at one of the computers in the vestibule and from a device on his wrist downloaded a report of his day's patrol and then walked into the interior of the Hub.

He surveyed the room quickly and noted the crowd was about the same as usual. The Forester, Silence, Dr. Genius, the Cavalier, Discus, and Hooded Angel were sitting around the circle of chairs and divans which stood in the center of the room. Metal Kid lounged apart in one corner of the room, playing Super Smash Brothers on his 3DS. In another corner, Time's Detective sat reading a book and listening to opera music on an MP3 player.

He took a can of aspartame-free soda from the cooler and then walked down to join the group in the center. Hooded Angel looked up as he came down. "Have you heard, Sky?"

"Heard what?"

"They've put Bone Crusher in containment."

"Why does that not surprise me?" He sat down next to Silence and signed a greeting. "But that makes everything complicated. What did he do that was bad enough to make the fellows upstairs lower the boom on him?"

"That's what makes it so complicated," Discus remarked, leaning forward and shifting her cigarette to the other corner of her mouth. "It's not really Bone Crusher that's in trouble, but Boris Blower."

"Oh. Whatever on earth for?"

"Child abuse."

He nearly dropped his soda. "Really?"

"Do you think we make a habit of lying to you, Sky?" asked Dr. Genius, a little sarcastically.

"I was just a little surprised. I would have guessed it'd be about anything else but that. So how does that work?" Sky took a sip of his soda and glanced around. "That means it's a public matter, right?" Dr. Genius and Hooded Angel nodded. "So now the Futureplex is holding someone in containment that is also wanted, in another identity, for a crime by the government? Does President Conners know about this?"

"Does even Heroman know about it yet?" Discus responded with a shrug. "Who knows? You think the boys upstairs are going to tell us anything? If Dr. Genius hadn't been part of the crew to bring him in, we probably wouldn't even know they had him."

Silence's hands began moving as he signed, "Is this not what we have all feared? If one of us has broken the law, will that not endanger us all?"

Sky understood his concern. The position of the Futureplex and all those who worked for it was always a little shaky. Though President Conners had convinced Congress to legalize the existence of costumed vigilantes and superheroes, granting them both certain freedoms and placing certain restrictions on them, it did not mean there were no further legal issues. Moreover, despite the friendship between Heroman and Conners' own superhero, Speeding Bullet, Conners was far from happy about the existence of the Futureplex. For that matter, Heroman himself, though he had helped to found it and was still its poster child and main defender, sometimes was unhappy about the actions of the Futureplex. The scientists who ran it had a tendency of being too independently-minded and too willing to set aside protocol in order to obtain their goals. Even though Sky and the others in this group were not privy to the inner councils of the Futureplex (except, on rare occasions, Dr. Genius), they were aware of all these things, for even on the cutting edge of progress, gossip was still highly effective.

"I know we've all been worried about something like this," Sky commented. "And I would have always guessed if it would be anyone, it'd be Bone Crusher. But if he was in his civilian identity when he did--whatever exactly it is he did--then why did the Futureplex get involved at all?"

"Because a police investigation of the life of Boris Blower would almost certainly lead to information regarding his secret identity," Dr. Genius answered. "And that is assuming he did nothing foolish himself, which, with him, would be very unlikely."

"Though," Discus added, "I don't know which would be more scandalous--if people knew that Bone Crusher was Boris or that Boris was Bone Crusher. Nobody really liked either one."

The Cavalier shrugged. "I don't know. I sometimes enjoyed listening to his show."

"The Blower Hour, you mean?" asked Sky. "It's all right if you like that sort of thing, I guess."

"Hardly a helpful statement, Sky,” said Dr. Genius. “If you like that sort of thing, of course it's all right."

Time's Detective had been more or less ignoring them, but he raised his head at this point and commented in his slow, quiet way. "I think what he means is that the individual example is good if you like the general category."

"I suppose logically that is what I said," Sky admitted, "but I just meant that I don't like it but maybe some people do. You two take everything so literally. In any case, I'm not really going to miss either Boris or Bone Crusher all that much. But I'm still worried about how this is going to work out. The Futureplex can't just hold somebody in containment forever."

"Oh, can't they though," remarked Discus, with a shrug. "Not that I care. If I had my way, they'd do more than throw him in containment. It's what he deserves for what he's done."

"What exactly did he do?"

At some point since he sat down, Sky had had a vague sense of something green passing the corner of his eyes, but it had been too quick and elusive to catch his full attention. But now as this voice spoke, he glanced up to see a lean, young man with blonde hair sitting at one of the computer kiosks in the far corner of the room. He wore blue jeans and a green shirt with white raglan sleeves. Sky wasn't surprised that he hadn't noticed him come in. Greenshade's power was stealth. And even aside from that, he tended to be rather quiet and withdrawn around the others at the Futureplex.

But now he pushed back from the computer and turned to face the little group in the center of the room. "What exactly did he do?" he repeated. "All I've heard so far is generalities. For instance, who is he is supposed to have abused?"

"Boris Jr.--his son, you know--" Discus explained.

Sky set down his drink. "You didn't say that before."

"What difference does it make?" asked Dr. Genius, in his tone of cool rationality.

"Just that I never would have suspected Boris of that. I know he's good at hurting people--I mean, he picked the name Bone Crusher for a reason--but I was a little surprised that he would hurt a child, and I'm very surprised that he would hurt his own child. There's no question, I suppose? He did do it?"

Hooded Angel adjusted his cape as he explained, "No question. He admits it himself. And there's medical evidence. At least, that's what I understand. Evidently, there was enough evidence to make the boys upstairs really hustle to get him into containment."

"He admitted it himself?" repeated Silence, talking in sign language as always.

Dr. Genius nodded. "Yes. Of course, he had all the traditional verbal covers for his actions. He called it discipline, his right as a parent, and so on."

"Oh!" Sky's face cleared and he picked up his soda again. "Well, why didn't you say that in the first place?"

"I will have no part in such euphemisms and terminological evasions."

"Terminological evasions or not, if you'd just said that to start with I would've known what we were talking about. It seems more believable."

Discus turned in her chair and looked at him fiercely. "Don't tell me you're going to excuse harming a child, even if you call it discipline."

"I'm not excusing anything. It's not as if anyone is going to ask my opinion, anyway. I'm just an observer--'The Invisible Watcher in the Sky' or whatever my official title is. But I know Bone Crusher pretty well--and Boris too, for that matter. And for all his faults, I just can't picture him randomly deciding one day that he was going hurt his own flesh and blood. And, let's be honest here. In most contexts 'child abuse' means something completely different--something I wouldn't accuse even Bone Crusher of. But if you put it in another context and in other words, it's at least consistent with his character. You can call it an evasion, Dr. Genius, but I'm sure it's a very real difference to him."

"And I'm sure it'll make his son feel so much better."

"Discus, I've never seen you quite so emotionally involved--in anything. Is it just because you've never liked Bone Crusher?"

She shrugged. Diane Lowski was a middle-aged woman who had been in this line of work longer than any of the Futureplex's heroes. As the Cavalier had quipped once, she was a vigilante before they were cool. She had passed that point in life where one can get away with wearing spandex in public and now wore a loose robe which looked somehow middle eastern. Usually, she wore a cowl to hide her identity, but, like most of the others, she discarded this while in the Hub. Her signature weapons were a variety of small discs, charged with electricity which she threw at criminals. People often laughed at her weapon--unless they had ever been on the receiving end of her work. "I've never liked Bone Crusher," she admitted. "Did anybody? Besides Mrs. Blower, I mean, and I've never quite believed she actually could. But just think about it. He was one of us, meaning he's supposed to be one of the good guys--he was supposed to help people. As Boris Blower, he was a talk-show host--supposedly the kind of guy who tells people what's right. And yet he does something like this--to his own son. I would be just as upset if it were any of you. You're right, Sky, that the fact that he called it--and maybe thinks of it--as discipline and not abuse may make it more believable, but it doesn't make it any better."

"Now, wait a moment," interrupted the Cavalier, throwing back his head to get his hair out of his eyes. "I didn't like Bone Crusher any more than the rest of you and I'm just as glad to be rid of him, one way or another. But you can't just say a parent should never hit their child. If more parents did, we might not have the mess we have. Kids never learn to respect anyone. It might make them better to get hit every and a while."

Everyone was looking at the Cavalier as he spoke, and so Sky was the only who noticed Silence asking, "Hit how hard?" There was no way to tell whether he meant the words seriously or ironically.

Hooded Angel adjusted his cape over the back of his chair as he glared at the Cavalier. "That's pretty ignorant, even for you, Cav. It may be true with the circles you move in, but if you got out into the real world more often, like the rest of us, you wouldn't say things like that. A lot of the people I work with have been beaten or abused or disciplined or whatever it is you want to call it. And it certainly hasn't done much to improve their character."

"How do you know? They might have turned out even worse without a little discipline."

"Maybe we should test the theory out on you and see how you like it."

"Well, I think you're only supposed to do it if somebody does something wrong--and of course, I never do anything wrong."

Hooded Angel frowned but decided there was no point in trying to argue anything with the Cavalier.

Discus nodded and moved her cigarette to the other corner of her mouth again. "It never makes any sense to me. If an adult hits another adult, that's assault; if a child hits another child, that's bullying; if a child hits an adult, that's disrespect; but if an adult hits a child, that's discipline. It just doesn't make sense. Are you laughing at me?" she asked abruptly, turning to stare at Greenshade who still sat at the computer at the side of the room.

"Not laughing exactly." But it was clear there was amusement and maybe something else in his voice.

"What's wrong with what I said?"

Greenshade stood and up and walked over, joining the group. "It's just that it's not true and we, of all people, should know that," he explained as he sat down beside the Cavalier. "It's not always assault if one adult hits another--all of us, except Sky, make our living by hitting people."

"I should hardly put it that way," Dr. Genius corrected.

Greenshade shrugged. "I'm not a violent person and I don't like hurting people. And of course, my main weapon is stealth, not strength. But the bottom line is that our jobs are violent, and our missions usually end with punching someone."

"I don't," Discus responded a little crossly.

"Because hitting people with electrically charged discuses is so much less violent than punching them," remarked Time's Detective, still not looking up from his book.

"Are you defending Bone Crusher?" Hooded Angel challenged.

Greenshade looked a little self-conscious at suddenly being the center of attention. "I don't know enough to defend him even if it were my job, which it isn't. All I'm saying is that cliché Discus was quoting isn't true. Physical violence isn't always assault or bullying. It can be a lot of things. And if it's never justified, we're all in the wrong line of work. And it isn't just we superheroes and vigilantes. It's even more true for police or soldiers. We at least have special talents or weapons or abilities that usually make it possible to avoid lethal force."

"So you're on Bone Crusher's side?" asked Discus, her voice rising in intensity. "You think it's all right for a parent to hurt their child in the name of discipline?"

"I didn't say that."

"But you do believe in corporal punishment, don't you?" challenged Dr. Genius. "It's a religious point for you, isn't it? Just like Bone Crusher?"

Greenshade looked a little startled. "Bone Crusher had a religion? I never knew that."

"Neither did anybody else. But it's amazing what people will say when they're in trouble. When we brought him into containment he kept quoting your Bible about 'spare the rod and spoil the child.'"

"First of all, one quotation does not mean someone is religious. Second, it's not my Bible specifically. Third, that's not in the Bible, anyway."

Hooded Angel looked up. "Really?"

"It is a somewhat condensed summary of several Biblical teachings, but it's not in the Bible. And it certainly isn't a specifically Biblical truth. Lots of people accept that statement without caring a lick about anything else in the Bible."

"You always bring the Bible into things, don't you, preacher-man?" remarked Discus.

Kobe Time had the unusual distinction of being probably the only superhero in the continental US who worked as a minister in their civilian identity. He also had the distinction of having been a superhero longer than any of them except Discus. He and his companions--the Polytechnics--had been responsible for bringing the concept of real-life superheroes into the public consciousness while still teenagers. At that time, he had been known as the Emerald Shadow. Since the Polytechnics had disbanded and he had become a solo hero, he had started going simply as Greenshade.

"Actually, it was Dr. Genius who brought up the Bile. I was just making a clarification." Greenshade spoke quietly, without embarrassment or brashness.

"OK, you're right there. But do you really think Bone Crusher was right?"

"I can't possibly think that because I don't know--and apparently nobody else here does--what it was that he actually did. Believing in corporal punishment as an idea does not mean defending every individual instance of it. We're all superheroes or vigilantes, but that doesn't mean any of us would defend everything done by all superheroes or vigilantes. For instance, I don't think any of us would defend some of Bone Crusher's methods. So without knowing any more details, we can't really pass judgment. My point was just that if corporal punishment is wrong simply because its violent or because it causes pain, then we're all wrong in being in this line of work at all."

"There is something to what you say," remarked the Forester. "When we fear the very word violence, then we have become cowards. And the world is filled with cowardice, with softness, with effeminacy."

"Careful how you throw that word around," Discus warned. "Some of us don't think that being like a woman is an insult."

"Excuse me. My early rearing gave me little appreciation for the feelings of others. But you know what I mean." Edgar Kipling, the Forester, was a tall man with strikingly blonde hair and fair skin tanned dark brown. He was the only one of the Futureplex's heroes (besides Heroman himself) who had the perfectly toned muscular body and six-pack abs which in fiction are assumed to be the essential character of any male superhero or supervillain. This fact was very obvious, as he wore only a loin-cloth and a headband. The Futureplex had no dress code. Still, considering the fact that he had been abandoned by his parents at an early age and had lived for nearly fifteen of his formative years in a forest without seeing another human being, it was really surprising that he had managed to absorb as much civilization as he had. "You teach people to hide and cringe," he continued, addressing his words to the company, though he clearly meant merely modern people in general, "to pretend that the world is a nice place and that pain is to be avoided. It is all a lie, a lie that is only tenable because of the artificial civilization you have built up around yourselves. If people would fight less with their tongues and more with their fists, it would probably be a more peaceful world, and certainly a more courageous one."

"And quieter," signed Silence.

"You treat pain as the only evil and will sacrifice truth, honor, glory--everything to this god of comfort. And by doing this, you cut yourself off from reality. Pain is the oblation we must offer if we wish to have true life. The man that is fighting for his life is at least a man and he is alive. The punk lying in the gutter trying to shut out pain through a trip is neither. The people who lie at home on their couches, never daring to face the harsh winds of reality, will never learn to stand strong against the wind. Sometimes I think that the best thing that could happen to this world would be if all these artificial walls of safety and comfort which you have built up should come crashing down around your ears, and we would be left alone fighting for our lives--for then we should be alive."

"Now, just wait a minute--" Discus began.

"Let me finish. I wish to make it clear that I have no issue with violence in general, with violence as an idea. But it is only an act of cowardice for a man to strike a child. We fight the strong so that we may become strong, but we protect the weak lest we should become weak."

"An ethic which was no doubt practiced by the animals among whom you grew up," remarked Time's Detective, closing his book, but keeping a finger in its place.

"If you're going to keep making your little sarcastic comments, you might as well come over and join us," said Hooded Angel, turning to look at him.

"Time's Detective is quite right," interrupted Dr. Genius, stretching out his legs. "For all your talk about getting your philosophy from nature, Forester, I think you really got it from Sir Walter Scott. Nature is fierce but it is not honorable and certainly not chivalrous. In some ways, nature is cowardly, far more cowardly than our civilization."

Xavier Price was one of the rising stars of the Futureplex, probably destined eventually to be part of the inner-councils of the organization. Several years before he had voluntarily submitted to a highly risky experiment in cybernetics which granted him highly advanced intellect as well as enhanced muscle movements and a robotic arm. It had also slightly altered his personality, making him rather snappish and impatient with others whose minds moved more slowly than his. Because of his advanced intellect (and possibly an advanced ego) he had taken the name Dr. Genius. It might have been a boast, but it was a boast that was not unfounded.

"Whose side are you on, anyway?" pressed Hooded Angel.

"I'm not taking sides. I'm certainly not condoning Bone Crusher if that's what you mean. What he did is inexcusable. But the Forester is wrong about why it's wrong. We do not protect children because they are weak, but because they are the future. If they were really weak, it might be kindest both to them and to the rest of the world, merely to eliminate them. But they are potentiality; children are the most powerful things in the universe, for they become men."

"And women."

"Yes, Discus. I was using the word in the sense of 'adult'. The point is that we must protect children because they are the future, they are the foundations of progress. To abuse a child is not so much cruelty as waste; it would be like a farmer throwing away his seeds. Without the next generation, we will have no tomorrow."

Discus dropped her cigarette in an ashtray and lit another. "I don't think your point of view is any better than Greenshade's. You're saying that the only reason you wouldn't hurt a child is because he or she 'll grow up to do something important in the world."

"Essentially, yes."

"So then it'd be all right to abuse a child if you positively knew they'd never grow up or that somehow things would be better if they were hurt."

"No one can know that."

"OK, but let's assume you could. Say you had a power like Time's Detective but could see the future instead of the past."

"If you could see the future, it would prove that all events are predetermined and cannot be altered anyway."

"You're the most aggravating man to argue with, Doc." Dr. Genius narrowed his eyes and drew himself up austerely as he always did when someone called him 'doc.' But Discus paid no attention. "Just say, though," she went on, "that you somehow could know. Would you hurt a child if you knew it wouldn't matter in the future?"

"I cannot imagine why I would--but no, under such circumstances, there were be nothing wrong with such an action."

Sky and Hooded Angel both started, even though they were both familiar enough with Dr. Genius's mind that they shouldn't have been surprised. Silence commented, "Really?" but again there was no way to tell if he were being serious or ironic.

Dr. Genius noted their surprise. "But such an individual instance, even if it could exist, would not change the essential point."

"What essential point?" Hooded Angel challenged.

"We cannot possibly know the future impact of every decision we make. But science allows us to know general rules which dictate our actions, rules by which we ought to live in all our lives. Science teaches us to preserve our offspring. At one time, parents did honestly think that corporal punishment was useful to their children, because of outmoded superstitions. But now science has proved this is not so and we have no excuse for still acting as if it weren't true. Science gives us these rules, I say, and they work in general and so they should also rule individual cases, even if in a particular instance we might wonder if there is any value in it."

"By science you mean psychology?" asked Greenshade. Though his face and voice were serious, Sky thought he detected a hint of amusement somewhere in his attitude. "I don't imagine physics or chemistry has proven anything about the proper way of training children."

"I was referring to a general atmosphere of science and enlightenment. But yes, psychology has spoken much to this issue."

Sky glanced at Hooded Angel. "You're a lot closer to being a psychologist than he is, Hood. Is that really true?"

"Well, psychology isn't nearly an exact science like physics or chemistry. And I'm not technically a psychologist. I'm just a counselor."

It was because of his work as a counselor that Lucas Short decided to become a vigilante. His work brought him into contact with some of the worst parts of the world and he saw vividly the effect of crime and injustice on the lives of the poor people with whom he worked. And so he started training and became a vigilante, wearing a costume somewhat based on Siegel and Baily's Spectre. He wore a white costume which appeared skin-tight but really wasn't--the padding beneath it serving both to protect him and make it look as if he were more muscular than he really was. Over this, he wore a cape and hood of black cloth, which had been responsible for his receiving the name Hooded Angel. Over his face he wore a peculiar sort of cloth which perfectly fitted the contours of his face, making it almost appear to be his face, only deathly pale. It concealed his identity and yet allowed him still to show expression. He had been merely a vigilante until he joined the Futureplex, at which point he had received a new costume, based on the old pattern, but with special technology woven into it which enhanced his powers so that he now occupied a nebulas position, something more than a vigilante but still less than a superhero.

"You do have training in psychology," Discus prodded.

"Yes, and the prevailing psychological opinion is that corporal punishment is counterproductive."

"There is some disagreement?" signed Silence.

"Of course. There's always some disagreement."

"So there's an outside possibility that even Bone Crusher isn't really in the wrong?" the Cavalier suggested.

"I wouldn't go that far."

Discus shook her head. "So you're basically saying the same thing as Dr. Genius, then. Do you really need a calculator or a degree in psychology in order to know that it's wrong to beat a little kid?"

"That's not quite what I meant," said Hooded Angel at the same moment that Dr. Genius said, "Yes."

"There's not certain things you just know are wrong?" Discus prodded. "Even if all your calculations and science told you otherwise, you'd still know they were wrong?"

"No. No one believes in that sort of thing anymore. Except those like Greenshade who still accept such superstitions."

This was a little pointed, even for Dr. Genius, but Greenshade seemed unruffled--if anything, he seemed a little amused.

"It's not just a matter of calculations," said Hooded Angel, leaning forward. "It's not like working out a math problem if that's what you're thinking. And though formal training helps, you don't really need to go to school to figure this kind of thing out. Anybody of reasonable intelligence can figure out what will or will not make people happy, what is or is not best for them."

Silence had been drumming his fingers nervously on his leg, and now, suddenly, he began moving them so quickly the others could hardly keep up with him. "If anyone of reasonable intelligence can figure out what is best for others, what will make others happy, then why do so many of them ruin their own lives by doing what is not best for themselves? We see the worst of the world; we see people who have destroyed their own lives and the lives of those around them. The alcoholics, the druggies, those who sell their bodies for money, those who risk their lives through crime for money--if they really know what is best, why do they always do what is the worst?"

They were all a little surprised at this outbreak from Silence. Though he had been working for the Futureplex as long as Dr. Genius and Discus, and longer than all the others, they still knew almost nothing about him. He wore an old fashioned costume, all black, rather like a goth pilgrim, with a black mask that completely obscured his face, and a large broad-brimmed black hat. All they really knew about him was that a birth defect prevented him from speaking, though he could still hear perfectly well. He used a variety of gadgets and his own unusual fighting skills to combat crime as Silence, but no one--at least, none of them--really knew why. He had once told Sky that his real name was Si Lance, but Sky wasn't sure if this was true or was just Silence's odd sense of humor.

"Lack of education, I suppose," remarked the Cavalier, twisting a lock of his hair around his fingers. "People start drinking, let's say, because they don't understand about addiction and the chemical properties of alcohol and all that sort of thing."

"They don't have much excuse for not knowing it," remarked Hooded Angel, a little shortly. There was a sort of running quarrel between him and the Cavalier. "There's enough information out in the world today about it that anybody who doesn't know doesn't know because they don't want to know. I think it's just selfishness. They put their own happiness, their desires for immediate fulfillment, in front of the needs of others."

"Well, why shouldn't they? You don't have to say selfishness as if it were a bad word. Healthy selfishness is what makes the world work."

"If you think that, Cavalier," asked the Forester, looking at him quizzically, "why are you a vigilante?"

"I would imagine," added Time's Detective, closing his book again, "that people could be selfish without your help."

"I mean healthy selfishness within certain bounds," the Cavalier explained, leaning back and crossing his legs. "Of course, it may become out of control and interfere with other people's rights. Besides, maybe it was mainly out of selfishness that I became a vigilante." Leland Prosser--the son of a wealthy university tycoon--had apparently taken up being a vigilante primarily because he was bored with life and this proved to be an interesting diversion. He was brilliant and had received training all his life in a variety of martial arts, including sword fighting and also had an interest in the romantic period of European history. This had made it easy for him to don the blue, eighteenth-century costume of the Cavalier. For the most part, he worked on the campuses of his father's universities, handling a higher caliber of crime than the others.

"You don't think people should live for others?" pressed Hooded Angel.

"No, I don't. And I don't really think people do when all is said and done. Everybody is selfish deep down. Everybody looks out for number one. And it's a good thing, too. Selfishness is what makes our whole economic system works."

"It also causes a lot of crime."

"So does unselfishness or supposed unselfishness. You know many charities playoff unselfishness to scam people? The truth is that we are all selfish and it's better to just come out an admit than to pretend."

Sky was sitting so that he could see the doorway. Actually, he could see most of the room. His work as an observer on the world had trained him to always find strategic observation points, even when there was no real reason to do so. During the argument between Hooded Angel and the Cavalier, he had seen a figure come to the doorway and stand there, observing them with a somewhat quizzical expression. It was a boy of about seventeen with an Asiatic appearance. Unlike most of the people that hung around the Futureplex, there was nothing unusual about his clothing or appearance. He wore black shorts and a white t-shirt, and he carried a tablet in one hand. Sky knew this figure well but he had vaguely wondered why it was that he seemed to be looking for something or waiting for something.

But at this moment, he understood, as something interrupted the dialog. Metal Kid, who had been ignoring everything going on around him, jumped up suddenly from his chair, letting out a stream of expletives, the metal studs in his ears sparking slightly and making all the metal in the room vibrate in sympathy. Everyone stopped talking to look at him. Metal Kid's tantrums weren't exactly unusual, but they were always noteworthy. His powers were great enough and unstable enough that nobody was quite sure what would happen if he ever completely lost control. He turned to the doorway and glared accusingly at the boy who stood there. "Parkour, get your girlfriend out of my 3DS," he shouted angrily.

Parkour took a step into the room. His attitude remained calm and unruffled as always, but he started tapping out something on his tablet as he spoke. "Don't lose your cool, Dani. It's not the end of the world."

"I'm tired of it. And besides, she's beating Cloud."

"You're just jealous because she can do it and you can't." He spoke into the tablet's microphone: "You should come over here and tell me all about it."

An instant later, Metal Kid sat back down, partly mollified, and a girl's voice spoke from Parkour's tablet. "I didn't mean to upset you, Dani. I thought you liked battling other people."

"Not you," grunted Metal Kid, not looking up.

"That's too bad." The girl sounded disappointed.

"Don't worry about him. He's just jealous, I told you."

Sky smiled slowly. Parkour was an interesting person. He was not one of the Futureplex's heroes and he had no unusual powers. And yet his heroic and sacrificial actions were perhaps more ultimately influential than things done by many of those who did work for the Futureplex. Not that he ever would have associated words heroic and sacrificial with himself. Yet it was his presence, his unshakable good temper, and his selfless love alone which stood between one girl and dissolution and possibly saved the entire communication systems of the world. Parkour's girlfriend had been part of a freak accident in a science lab which had transferred her mind into cyberspace, transforming her into Yfi, the Digital Damsel. Now her body lay in stasis somewhere upstairs while the scientists at the Futureplex tried to find some way of reversing the process or at least helping Yfi cope with her new condition. But it was the presence of Parkour, more than anything else, which kept her fragile consciousness together amidst the madness of the digital world. Without him, there is no telling what would have happened to her or what damage she might have done to the world's digital interface. Parkour would have been terribly embarrassed if anyone had said it to him--but he was one of those people who did truly live his life for someone else, notwithstanding the cynicism of people like the Cavalier. At any rate, that was the thought that struck Sky at the moment. Strangely, his thoughts were echoed a second later, though in a rather different form.

"You're all wrong you know," continued Yfi, sounding somewhat breathless as always. "I heard everything you said from Dani's 3DS. And you're wrong. Especially you, Cavalier." Parkour walked over to the center of the room, still carrying the tablet so that she could be more or less a real part of the conversation.

"I am?" The Cavalier looked a little blank. He had never been able to adjust his mind to accept Yfi's existence.

"A person who lives only in relation to himself doesn't really exist at all. It is only as we connect with one another that we find actualization. The I does not have any meaning until it becomes the We."

"And what does that really mean?" asked Discus. She was the only one who was not a little awed by Yfi. "You can't live without touching other people, that I'll give you--but touch how? Does that include hitting? Murderers and abusers and robbers all touch other people. You might say they live their lives in relation to others, but that doesn't make them any better."

The Cavalier raised his eyebrows. "That's rather profound--for you."

"But we're supposed to look for the good of other people--for each person as much as if they were our self. And only when we do that do we find personal fulfillment."

"So you're unselfish so that you can selfish."

"No, no, Cavalier, that's not the way it works."

"Sure sounds like it to me."

Metal Kid's concentration had been broken and now he threw down his 3DS in frustration. "I think you're all crazy," he commented. "Who cares about all this @#$% like progress and helping other people? I don't see why anybody should worry about helping anybody or not hurting them."

"And what if somebody tried to hurt you?" suggested Hooded Angel.

"I can take care of myself." And again the metal studs in his ears glowed.

"And what if it were somebody stronger than you? Even you're not stupid enough to think that nobody could take you."

"Well, if I get myself in some position where somebody can hurt me I guess it's about what I deserve for being so stupid. But I'm too smart to get myself trapped like that."

"You'll never find real existence that way," warned Yfi, jumping suddenly so that her voice came from his 3DS.

"I'll take my chances on that."

The others turned away and went back to ignoring Metal Kid as they tried to do most of the time. None of them really knew who Metal Kid actually was or where he had come from. But the Futureplex had given him strange metal-manipulating powers and the new secret identity of Dani Roy. What his real name was, not even he knew. Though he wasn't bad as superheroes go, his selfish and cocky attitude and short temper wore on the others.

"I still say," said Yfi, jumping back to Parkour's tablet, "that we should try to help each person we met, exactly as if they were ourselves."

"I must take issue with that, Yfi," said Dr. Genius, though his voice did not have its usual confidence. Yfi particularly unnerved him because he was half computer and she could have crashed his entire system easily if she wanted. "Your theory is that we should have concern for other people individually and personally. But what is good for one person may not be good for all. What might help an individual might hurt society as a whole. We should not seek the individual good, but progress."

"Which means the collective good at some point in the future?" asked Greenshade curiously.

"Yes."

"Which is--?

"What's that supposed to mean?" Dr. Genius narrowed his eyes.

"Well, how can you know what we should work for in the future if we don't know what we want in the present? Your idea is that we should live in such a way that it will produce a certain future."

"Exactly."

"But unless you know what kind of world you want tomorrow, how can you know how to live today? If you could produce in an instant the world you're working towards, what would be like?"

"A progressive world, of course."

"A world aimed at creating some other world in the future? That's what a progressive world would be, wouldn't it?"

"What on earth are you trying to prove, Greenshade?"

"Well, I've just been sitting here listening to you all. If any of you could remake the world as they wanted to, if they could achieve progress, they would make something different. Discus hasn't said much about her own ideas, but evidently, one essential attribute of her goal for the world is that no parent could get away with striking a child. The Forester wants a world of violence and honor, a world where men are not afraid to fight and suffer but would be ashamed to do something cowardly. In short, a world of chivalry. Yfi would make a world where everyone lives in interconnectivity with others, the Cavalier a world where people were moderately selfish, and Metal Kid a world where they were completely selfish--or, at least, where he could get away with being completely selfish. Hooded Angel wants a world where people are moderately happy and don't cause too much trouble for one another. And assumably if Bone Crusher were here he would say that one of the essential attributes of his goal for the world would be the right of a father to use corporal punishment on his children. And I'm just wondering, Dr. Genius, if you are going to seek the common good through progress, which good exactly is it you're going to be seeking? You have so many too chose from."

"The best good," answered Silence immediately.

"And who decides which that is? You, Silence? Dr. Genius? Bone Crusher?"

Sky looked up, with a new note in his eyes. "That seems like a logical point."

"I hardly think that's a relevant question."

"Well, then, let's ask another question. Suppose you did establish what kind of world we should be working for and how to get it. How far would you be willing to go in order to obtain it?"

"I'm not quite sure what you mean."

Greenshade leaned back in his chair and looked thoughtful. When he spoke, there was a far away and almost dreamy note to his voice. "If you were going to create a new world along the technological lines, you would require a power source. To make a really good world on those lines--along the lines researched here at the Futureplex--you would need a power source far surpassing everything we have now--everything except the Heroic Ion."

"The Heroic Ion!" exclaimed Discus in surprise. "What's that have to do with anything?"

"It's the most powerful thing world has ever seen--and it's the only reason why Heroman is the world's most powerful man. The power to draw energy from every atom in the universe simultaneously and convert it to useful purposes--it's hard even to imagine something more powerful than that. The Heroic Ion would be the logical thing to put at the center of a new world order of technology and it's at least theoretically possible that it could bring health and comfort if health and comfort are what we're looking for. But at present, Heroman is the only person who can use the Heroic Ion--so far as we know--and only through the medium of his own body. Suppose that in order to obtain the energy needed the Heroic Ion had to be located in the body of a child. It might have to be a child because an adult's body and mind would be too fully developed and could not provide a supple channel for the energy. And suppose the process of drawing the energy for such a large world was painful--for all we know, it is painful since Heroman never talks about himself. He may live in constant pain because of the Heroic Ion for anything we know. So let's just suppose that this world you are going to create, this world of progress and happiness and health, is only possible through the continual pain of one child who serves as the channel to bring the necessary energy. What then?"

That was the most Greenshade had ever said at one time since he came to the Futureplex and the unusual nature of his speech along with his strange way of delivering it and the words themselves had a slightly odd effect on the others. For a moment, everyone seemed awed as if they were thinking of something that had really happened, not a mere theory.

Everyone but Time's Detective, that is. He glanced up and commented, "The Ones Who Walk Away from Omelas?"

Greenshade nodded. "But it's not just the stuff of fiction anymore. In the atmosphere of the modern world, the plan--or something like it--is not really that improbable."

Hooded Angel was staring in thoughtful concentration at the floor. "It would be a hard choice to make," he said finally. "Is it right for one person to suffer--if it would really make the world better for everyone else? I don't think I would want to be the one to make that sort of call."

"It is the plan of cowards," exclaimed the Forester leaping to his feet. "If the thing came to pass, I would spend my life fighting such a world, fighting to right such an injustice."

"I'll have to side with the Forester on this one," added Discus, lighting another cigarette.

"You are fools then," returned Dr. Genius. "Do you think no children suffer now? If all the suffering in the world could be narrowed only to a single person, wouldn't that be better for all?"

"I'm not sure," answered Hooded Angel, still looking thoughtful. "Don't we have the duty to right any individual wrong, to help any individual regardless of the cost to the whole?"

"Why?"

"I suppose," remarked the Cavalier, "if one really did know that it would be best for everyone--"

Silence's hands moved so quickly that only Dr. Genius could follow what he was saying. "He is asking, 'What if I decided it would be better if I killed all of you?'"

"I am beginning to wonder the same thing." The Forester's teeth were clenched, but he dropped back into his chair.

Hooded Angel shook his head. “Let's all calm down. There's no point in getting worked up about something that's just theoretical. Greenshade, do you have to come up with such outlandish ideas?”

“OK, let's trying getting at the same thing a simpler way. Assuming Bone Crusher was being honest in his reasoning, isn't that the defense he would give for his actions? That hurting his son was in his son's best interest and very possibly in the best interest of the world?"

"But that's silly," Discus exploded.

"How do you know that?"

"Whose side are you on, anyway, Greenshade?" asked Hooded Angel, a little testily.

"I'm just making a point. Ever since I came in, you've been discussing two questions, what is right and what is good. Ethics and axiology, if you want to get technical. The only thing you all seem to agree on is that you think Bone Crusher is wrong--and I'm not arguing with you on that. I mean, this is Bone Crusher we're talking about. But I've heard all kinds of different reasons given for how we know what is right and wrong, or what is good and bad. And I'm just wondering how you know any of it."

"Science," answered Dr. Genius shortly.

"How can science tell you what is right?"

"Again, I go back to the example of corporal punishment. Science shows us what is the proper way to discipline a child, what way works, and that's what we ought to do."

"Ought we? If Metal Kid is right, we shouldn't give a thought for anyone and that assumably includes our children. So even if science could prove which methods would be the most effective--and I think Hooded Angel will agree that psychology can't actually prove something like that--it wouldn't tell us whether we should care about being effective in raising our children. In the same way, science could tell you whether that scenario I outlined about the Heroic Ion is possible and if so how would be the most effective way of making it come true--but how could a study of any kind of science tell you whether you ought to do it or not?"

Dr. Genius actually seemed a little flustered. "Well, no, no exact science, but the general atmosphere of science--"

"That sounds very unscientific," remarked the Cavalier with one of his annoying, superior expressions.

"For the first time, Cav, I think you've said something sensible," returned Hooded Angel, slowly. "Science is a tool and a tool is a weapon and a weapon can be used for good or evil. Discus, Sky, Silence, Dr. Genius, Greenshade, and I all use science to fight crime in one way or another. But I'm sure I'm not the only one who has faced people who use science and technology for their own selfish purposes, who use it for evil."

"Evil?" There was a sneer in Dr. Genius's voice. "How unscientific."

"Well, let's put it this way. The Futureplex is based around science. But we've also run into people who use science to oppose the work of the Futureplex. Now, maybe they're right. There are moments when I half feel I'd like to oppose it myself. But the point is this--if science is on both sides of a fight, how can you say, by science, which side is right? If one of our enemies was a better scientist than anyone here, would you switch sides?"

Dr. Genius sniffed to show his contempt for the entire conversation.

Sky scratched his nose thoughtfully and then asked: "OK, but then how do you know?"

"Know what?" asked Hooded Angel and Silence, almost simultaneously.

"Ultimately, who are the good guys and who are the bad guys? You remember the Mad Master, don't you, Hood? We worked together on that case. He was a criminal but he was a great scientist. And he claimed that if he could take over the world he could run it better than it's run now. I admit, I don't believe it, but we didn't really wait to find out. But how could we know if we were right? I mean, scientifically--"

"Science has nothing to do with it." Hooded Angel spoke with unusual fervor. He evidently was getting tired of the emphasis on science in the conversation. "The Mad Master might have been a scientist, but he was also a criminal. No matter what his goals were, he was a criminal."

"And by a criminal you mean--"

"Someone who breaks the law."

"So it's the law that determines what is right and wrong?"

"Well, let's face it--it's all we have to go on. I mean, we are all supposed to work to protect the law."

Silence tapped his fingers impatiently on the arm of his chair and then asked, "But what of the time when law protected institutions such as slavery and segregation or even the beating of children? Was it right?"

"I didn't say that just because something is the law, it's right. I'm not that stupid and even though I rather like President Conners, I certainly don't have that much faith in the government. The truth is a little more complicated." He leaned back and twisted his fingers in his cape thoughtfully. "The criminal doesn't just break the law. He cuts himself off from humanity. He's a rebel, breaking away from the rest of his people. It may be necessary sometimes, but it's always dangerous."

"Because," Yfi interrupted, speaking from Parkour's tablet, "it is through our connection to other people that we actualize our existence. A man who cuts himself off from the community cannot truly be said to be a man at all."

The Forester raised his head and there was a strange glint in his blue eyes. "Is that really true, Digital Damsel? For fifteen years of my life, I lived alone in the forest, not even knowing with certainty that any other beings like myself existed. I do not regret that I have put those days behind me; that I have come to this place where I have found friends and a purpose in life--and yet there are still times that I think that I was never so alive, never so real, never so much a man as those days when I was alone in the forest. You and your interconnectivity--you do not find existence in others, you steal it. Every man in your world may be confident of who he is only because he has the approval of his brothers."

"And sisters," Discus corrected.

The Forester ignored her. "You are like a group of men who should pool their pocket change and each man would feel confident of his wealth because of the total of the sum--when he might, himself, be a possessor of a great fortune if he would break apart and search for it. And you might all find a true and more virile existence if you would break apart from all these clinging tendrils and force yourself to live in a naked, solitary existence."

Hooded Angel shook his head. "Most people can't do that, Forester. Most people, if left completely on their own like you were, wouldn't survive--not just physically, but emotionally. We need other people. There are always some exceptions, of course. Some become criminals; some become saints; some become superheroes. But they are anomalies."

“Which actually brings up an interesting point,” said Greenshade. "It is true that there are some criminals--like the Mad Master--who are rebels against the world, who stand--how did the Forester put it?--in a naked, solitary existence. But as you say, they're the exception. Most criminals aren't breaking away from the game, they're just trying to cheat at the game which isn't quite the same thing. And then, there's another class. Take the Incorrigibles. They're the criminals I've been facing the most recently, and I hear I'm not the only one."

Dr. Genius nodded. "Even Heroman has had trouble with that gang. And there are reports that Conners' agents are experiencing the same difficulty. No one of them is strong enough to pose a danger even to Discus or the Cavalier but for everyone you defeat there are five more."

"Um-hm. And of course, I suppose you could call the Incorrigibles rebels because they don't care about the law or society, but they certainly can't be said to live a naked, solitary existence. They are a very tight-net group of people who depend very much on one another. You might call them a society within a society. And many gangs are the same way, though we've never dealt with one so widespread or seemingly universal; one which combines the characteristics of a street gang and a secret society. But the point is that they do satisfy Yfi's condition of living a life of connection with one another. So does that mean we can't really condemn them as criminals?"

Discus took her cigarette out of her mouth and there was an ugly expression on her face. "If you've really faced the Incorrigibles, Greenshade, then you know the answer to that. If they're not criminals than who is? You know the things they do. Why, compared to them, even Bone Crusher looks like a saint. I can't say more than that, can I?"

"Coming from you, that is a pretty scathing review," agreed the Cavalier.

"Yeah, so how can you even ask if they're really criminals?" Discus continued, glaring at Greenshade. "Surely, not even you can excuse them."

"Don't look at me. It was Yfi and Hooded Angel that said the definition of a criminal is someone who cuts themselves off from humanity."

"Oh, come on, Greenshade," Hooded Angel interrupted, "you're taking me out of context. Sure, the Incorrigibles are a gang and the very definition of a gang is that the people in it are interconnected--whatever that even means--but they're still a break-off from the society, a small minority trying defy the will of the people and live life the way they want. They may be a society, but they're still a society of outlaws. You can't really--"

But, at that moment, his words stopped. His mouth kept moving but all sound in the room seemed to be deadened. He stopped speaking and glanced at Silence. They all realized this was the action of Silence's "sound-dampener," one of the many gadgets he used his work as a vigilante. However, he sometimes used even in the Hub as he had no other way of getting people's attention if they didn't happen to be watching his hands.

"Sorry, Silence. What did you want to say?"

Silence's hands moved quickly but with a jerkiness that seemed to indicate a sort of emphasis. "And what if the Incorrigibles succeed in their goals? What if we cannot stop them? What if their ranks swell in number until their subculture replaces the outside culture? That is their goal--and all the resources of the Futureplex and the government haven't been able to stop them yet. What if they succeed? Then what? Will you let the world go down a path of violence and cruelty just because that is what the majority of people want? When all is Rome, will you really do as Romans do? Or would you break out and try to stop it or, at least, to protect the innocent? And if you do, wouldn't you be the criminal yourself?"

For once, Hooded Angel looked really annoyed. "Look, Silence, whose side are you on, anyway?"

"Wherever there is the clash of unreason, the trumpet of tyranny, or the lamentations of the innocent, there shall Silence come at last."

"Ri-i-ight. I forgot you were the one of us that actually has a catchphrase."

"He does make a good point, though," Greenshade pointed out. "And we can think of a far more prosaic example from this very conversation. It was Bone Crusher that started all this, after all. And there was a time when the corporal punishment of children was allowed and even encouraged by society. Even now, I'd make a guess that a majority of people would accept it in one form or another. So does that mean, at that time or even now, it's not wrong because the mass of humanity accepted--or does accept--it? And if not, doesn't that defeat your argument?"

"You all are really stupid, you know that?" Discus shifted her cigarette again. "Do you really need an explanation about why something is bad? Who looks at something like child abuse or the Incorrigibles and thinks, 'What is our grounds for condemning this,'-- any more than someone would look at you, Greenshade, and think, 'What is our ground for thinking his shirt is green?' You know as soon as you see it that it's green and you know as soon as you see it that's it's wrong."

"I agree, his shirt is rather unstylish," the Cavalier began. "Who wears Raglan sleeves anymore?"

"I don't think that's what she meant," Sky interrupted with a smile.

"I believe her point is that a knowledge of moral evil comes through direct perception rather than through philosophy just as a knowledge of color comes through direct perception," explained Time's Detective, rather startling the others since he hadn't spoken in several minutes.

"And what of people who are color blind?" asked Silence.

"There are people who are color blind," agreed Hooded Angel. "But that doesn't destroy the existence of color. And there are some people who seem to be morally color blind, who seem unable to really tell the difference between right and wrong. But that doesn't mean right and wrong don't exist."

Dr. Genius brought his robotic arm down with a clang that made the Cavalier nearly start off his chair. "Your analogy is false. Color blindness is a medical condition which we can diagnose scientifically. We know there is something wrong with the eyes of a man who is color blind. That can be proved. If it couldn't be, then there would be nothing to prevent him from saying his perception was right and ours was wrong. At best, it would become merely a matter of perspective and semantics with no objective validation. But we cannot scientifically verify someone's moral perception. And if you are going to maintain what you all were saying earlier that we cannot prove scientifically what is right and wrong, then you have no grounds to say that your 'morally color blind' person isn't really the one who sees correctly and you are the one who sees wrong."

Sky frowned. "But aren't there a lot of immediate perceptions that we can't actually test? I mean, science really can't test the accuracy of our senses because it depends on our senses. For instance, you can't scientifically prove that were not stuck inside one of those VR computers upstairs because if we were then they could make your science say anything they wanted to."

"Don't try to change the subject, Sky. We are not discussing whether reality objectively exists and whether our senses can or cannot be trusted. We are talking about moral perception. There's a very definite reason why our perception of morality cannot be put in the same class with our perception of colors or of the existence of matter."

"I'm not quite--

Dr. Genius shook his head and glared at Greenshade. "You know why, don't you, Greenshade?"

Discus looked questioningly from Greenshade to Dr. Genius and back again. "What does he mean?"

"I suppose what he means is that there is more divergence of perception when it comes to moral matters."

"I have no idea what you just said."

"You can see that my shirt is green. There are only a comparative handful of people in the world who would disagree with you. But if you said it was green, and Dr. Genius said it was red, and the Cavalier said it was purple, and Sky said it was black, then you might be right to say that none of us have good grounds for believing our perception in the first place."

"OK, maybe, though I don't think even if every one of you said it was pink with orange polka dots I'd believe you when I can see plainly enough that it's green. But what does that have to do with what we were talking about?"

"It's just that there is more debate about matters of right and wrong than there is about colors. On any given subject, you will find some people fervently arguing that it is right and others fervently arguing that it is wrong--as we've seen today. Though today it seems our argument is not so much about what is right and wrong as about why it is right and wrong."

"Don't you think, deep down, that everybody really knows? They may argue, but they really know?"

"As a matter of fact, yes, I do. But as I'm sure Dr. Genius is itching to point out, I can't scientifically verify it. Just like, if you claimed my shirt was blue--I might think that you really knew what color it was and were just pretending, but there really wouldn't be any way to prove it."

"Yes, there are always some people who disagree with established morality," agreed Hooded Angel, "but those kinds of psychopaths can't be considered as valid sources of ideas."

"How do you know?" the Cavalier challenged. "Unless they're certifiably insane, how can you say their viewpoint isn't as valid as yours? Just because they're a minority? Are you going back to the idea that the majority determines morality?"

Sky shook his head. “And I'm not sure about that term 'psychopaths.' I'm just an observer on the world, you know, but I know a lot of people--ordinary, respectable, run-of-the-mill people--who would disagree with some of the things you all take as granted. It's not just freaks or oddballs on the edge of society."

"What do you mean by that?" asked Discus, turning to glare at him.

"Well, for instance, even though all of us thought he was too extreme, I know people who defended Boris's methodology as Bone Crusher. Though I don't know what it really was he did to his son, I'm betting I know some people who would say it was not only permissible but actually admirable. And I know people who--even if they said it was wrong--would say there were other things you all do that are worse--for instance, the fact that you smoke, Discus."

"There may be something to that," agreed the Forester. "For is not nicotine just another drug?--another drug by which those who do not have the courage to face--"

Discus leaped to her feet. "Look here, Forester, you'd better watch who you're calling names, or you may end up with one of my discuses in your chest. You may have all the strengths and skills of an animal but don't think that can save you from me."

"So you would settle this argument by means of force?" The Forester rose and placed one hand to his forehead in a sort of salute. "It is the way of the forest. The animals among whom I was raised knew nothing of argument or debate. Tooth and claw were the final answer."

"Well, isn't that the whole point of being a superhero? To be strong enough that we can make everyone else do what we want?"

"Perhaps. But remember--you only have so many discuses, and when your sheath is empty, I shall still be the Forester while you will be only an ordinary woman in a robe."

Sky couldn't quite tell whether they were being serious or not. He wasn't very comfortable with the idea of a fight breaking out there in the Hub--not that it had never happened before. If they weren't careful, they might all get in trouble.

"But if you settle your arguments with force, don't forget who is truly the most powerful here." The voice startled Sky for though it was like Greenshade's it was also different. He glanced up and saw a figure standing in front of Greenshade's chair. It was a man entirely encased in smooth body armor of a glistening, almost shimmering green.

"That is quite the boast, Greenshade," remarked the Forester, turning to look at him--and also breaking the tension with Discus who sat back down, a little ruffled but now calm.

"Not really. I mean, it's not like I can claim much credit. I didn't make the Polytechnic Armor. I didn't ask to have it permanently grafted to my body so that I can summon it in an instant. But you--as strong as you are--can not possibly hope to hurt me while I wear it. The same would be true of Discus, Silence, Hooded Angel, and the Cavalier. Dr. Genius might possibly be able to crush this armor with his robotic arm, but that would assume he could catch me, which is by no means easy." He moved slightly. His armor seemed to change to green haze. Sky blinked and saw that Greenshade was standing on the opposite end of the circle. "They didn't name me the Emerald Shadow for nothing," he commented. An instant later the armor vanished and he returned to his chair. "The only people I would fear would be Metal Kid and Yfi. Metal Kid's powers can't affect the metal of the Polytechnic Armor, but if we were fighting here in the Futureplex he or Yfi could turn the entire building against me. And my stealth powers don't work as well inside."

"I still believe you have too much confidence in your powers," remarked the Forester.

"Yeah, I'll have to agree on that one," added Discus.

"Well, I'm not going to test the theory--but let's say you're right. But we all know one thing--that Heroman is more powerful than any of us. He could crush my armor in a couple of seconds and even if Metal Kid could summon all the metal in the building against him, it wouldn't phase him."

"I don't know." Discus doused her cigarette and lit another. "He has his weakness. I could stop him."

"Yeah?" asked Sky sarcastically. "How are you get a hold of that much aspartame that quickly? It'd have to be a lot, you know, and you'd have to use it just right. It doesn't instantly drain his strength, after all. I'm sure the boys upstairs have worked out some kind of contingency plan in case Heroman ever turns on the Futureplex but I'm not sure I'd lay any money on its actually working if things ever came to that."

"Maybe." Even Discus couldn't argue with that. "So what's your point?"

"I think Greenshade's trying to say that if you're going to argue that the most powerful sets the rules, then you've got to face the fact that Heroman would get to make the rules as the most powerful human being ever known. And we all know he's gotten sort of religious now that he's so chummy with Speeding Bullet. Which means he might think that corporal punishment for children isn't wrong at all--and since he's more powerful than any of us, we'd all have to go along."

"But Heroman wouldn't do that sort of thing," the Cavalier objected. "He doesn't throw his weight around like that."

"No, he doesn't." Greenshade nodded. "But he could--and if the strongest really determines what's right, than there would be nothing we could say about it."

The Forester frowned thoughtfully. "I was the one who voiced that idea. And it was the rule of the animals in the forest. Might makes right. Yet when you say it like that, Greenshade, it seems cowardly--a philosophy unfit for a man."

"Not everything that's fit for animals is fit for man, you know," remarked Hooded Angel.

There was a pause and then Greenshade spoke in a strange, faraway voice. "I'll never forget the first big battle we had--the Polytechnics, I mean. We were just a bunch of teenagers with aptitude--kids given these suits of armor against our will. We didn't really know what we were doing and we didn't know the full power of our armor at that time. And there we were, going up against a powerful, world-wide organization like the Control Center that had position, influence, money, and brainpower to support it. We were able to defeat the CC, but when we went into that battle, we had no way of being sure that was how it would come out. It seemed the CC had was all-powerful and we were just some kids trying to defeat it. But we knew it was wrong. We knew that what the CC was doing was wrong--that it had to be stopped. And that whether or not we could stop it, we were the only people who had anything close to a hope of doing it. Remember, there really weren't any other superheroes back then and the government wasn't in a position to deal with that crisis. We were the only hope of stopping it, as impossible as it was. But we knew, whether or not we could stop it, that it had to be stopped. And that's why we threw ourselves against it--and won. But if we had truly believed that the most powerful person determined what was right, then we would have done nothing. Not only would our actions have been stupid, but they would have been actually immoral. We ought to have fulfilled the task for which we were created--created as superheroes, I mean--and that was to defend the CC, not attack it. We ought to have accepted it and fought for it, because it was so powerful. But we didn't. 'Weak if we were and foolish, not thus we failed, not thus;/When that black Baal blocked the heavens he had no hymns from us/Children we were--our forts of sand were even as weak as we,/High as they went we piled them up to break that bitter sea.'"

"What?" asked Discus blankly.

"Sorry. The prologue to The Man who was Thursday by G. K. Chesterton. The Argent Fist--who was big into that sort of thing--quoted it to me right before our final battle with the CC."

"I remember the story about how you brought down the CC," remarked Hooded Angel. "That's part of what gave me the idea to become a vigilante in the first place. But of course you had to stand up to the CC, even though they were so powerful--that's the whole point. That's the whole reason the world needs heroes in the first place. Because might is so often on the side of wrong. That the whole reason we exist--to defeat those who use strength to oppress the weak."

"I don't know," remarked Discus. "The world got along all right for thousands of years before there were any superheroes."

"We don't know for sure that there weren't any superheroes before the modern era--but I didn't say 'superheroes,' Discus. I said 'heroes.' We do things one way and there are moments when I wonder if it's really the best way. But there are multitudes of ordinary people who do the same thing in their own way and to the extent of their power. There have always been heroes who would stand up to the powerful and the oppressors."

"Which--" Greenshade began.

"There is no need for you to say it," interrupted the Forester with an abrupt motion of his hand. "I see clearly that I was in error. What counts is not strength but courage--and the two things more often than not exist in an inverse proportion."

"For a guy who was raised by animals, you sure like to use fancy words." This from Discus.

"But I hope," added Dr. Genius after a moment's pause, "that you don't intend to say that there is any value in attacking a large and powerful organization simply because it is large and powerful. That argument would justify even attacking the Futureplex itself."

Greenshade smiled slightly. "So you think that though we were right to fight against the CC, we would be wrong to fight against the Futureplex? Come to think of it, the Futureplex does have a lot in common with the CC."

"That sounds rather socialistic." The Cavalier wrinkled his nose slightly as he spoke. "I mean, to say that we should attack powerful things just because they're powerful."

"I don't think that's what Greenshade meant," Hooded Angel interrupted. "The whole point is that both the powerful and the weak, the rich and the poor--everybody, whether they're a senator, a servant, or a superhero, answers to the same rules. Just because we're powerful doesn't mean we can set the rules to suit ourselves."

"Then who does?" asked Sky.

"Huh?" The Cavalier started at him a little blankly.

"Isn't that what we've been talking about? Who does get to set the rules?"

"That's what we were talking about?"

"That's how it looks from here. Look, Bone Crusher claims that whatever he did to his son was right--something that he was not only allowed to do, but that it was actually his duty to do as a father. Or at least, that's what I'm guessing based on what Dr. Genius said about his excuse and also based on--well--knowing Bone Crusher like I do. And let's assume that whatever he did was something that none of the rest of us would say was right--not even Greenshade or you, Cavalier. So we would say it was wrong and he would say it was right. We would say that he's become one of the villains and he would say that he is a hero, probably even a martyr. And the whole point of this conversation, so far as I can tell, is this--how can we prove which of us is right? Even though all of us are theoretically heroes, each one of us seems to have a different idea about what makes something right or how people ought to live. Even though we might agree on the specific case with Bone Crusher, it seems we would disagree on other cases because all our reasoning is different."

The Cavalier crossed his legs. "So that's it, huh? It seems a little bit of a waste of time when you say it like that. All this over-thinking things."

"Have to agree with that," added Discus. "After all, we can see from history how bad something like child abuse is--"

Time's Detective carefully placed a bookmark in his book and closed it. With slow, precise movements, he paused his MP3 player and took his earbuds out. And then he walked over to stand directly behind the Cavalier's chair. "You're singing my song," he remarked.

"I should've known that a mention of history would bring you over," remarked Hooded Angel with a laugh.

Kenneth Solkore was a man of ordinary height and build with wavy brown hair. He wore a trench-coat, fedora, and a brown domino mask--even while in the Hub. Beyond that, there wasn't much distinctive about him. He worked as a history teacher at a high school in one of the poorest section of one of the country's larger cities. But the really strange thing about him could not be seen and it was not on his resume. He had the ability to see back through time. Nobody--not even he himself--knew how he had gained this strange power (though it might have had something to do with having worked as an assistant in a physics lab during college.) It was just there, inexplicable and inescapable. It was rather limited--he could only see the past for the particular place where he was at any given time and he could only see a limited distance. However, he had used this ability to solve some matters of history as well as work on some cold cases for the local precinct.

"So what's your perspective on all this?" Sky asked.

Time's Detective was slow and precise as always. "You're discussion is certainly interesting though I cannot see much hope of its coming to a resolution. However, when it comes to history, I think I have a right to offer my experience."

"What kind of experience?" asked the Cavalier suspiciously. He knew that if Time's Detective started talking, it might be a long time before they got him stopped.

"There is a particular case which has been weighing on my mind of late. And it relates to your previous conversation." He paused for a moment and then began. "This case happened in my precinct about ten years ago. There was an old man who suffered from a rare nerve condition. It was quite painful and caused him to be very irritable and mentally unstable. He was cared for by a younger brother and a nephew who was, at that time, about seventeen. One day--as I said, this was almost exactly ten years ago--the young man came home to find both his father and uncle had been shot. The uncle--the man who had the nervous condition--had a gun in his hand and a suicide note was found. He explained that his brother had been cleaning his gun when the two of them got into an argument. In a temporary spasm of rage, he had grabbed the gun and shot his brother. Then, in a fit of remorse, he shot himself."

Time's Detective paused for a long moment and then Silence asked, "And? If there were no more story you would not have told us that much."

"The case was officially considered closed. There was nothing odd in the situation--except this. Though the old man shot himself after writing a suicide note, there was no pen found at the crime scene. It was a small detail but it piqued my interest. The house where all this happened is now abandoned and it was easy enough for me to gain access and there use my power to see what truly happened."

"And you found out it was really a double murder not a murder and suicide, right?" suggested the Cavalier.

"No. It really was a murder and a suicide."

"Well, then, what's the point?"

"It was the wrong murder and suicide." There was a long pause. "What I mean," he continued, "is that it was the younger man who committed suicide. The strain of living with his brother's condition was too much and so he shot himself."

"Then who killed the other guy?" asked Hooded Angel.

"The man's son. When he discovered his father had killed himself, he shot his uncle, wrote a fake suicide note, and fixed the crime scene. The police had no definitive example of the old man's handwriting and so there was no way to prove that one way or another and nothing else about the case seemed to merit further investigation. His one mistake was to carry away the pen with which he wrote the suicide note."

"But why?" asked the Cavalier blankly.

"Insurance," guessed Silence.

"You are quite correct," Time's Detective admitted. "By making his father's death seem like murder rather than suicide he was able to collect his life insurance money--which was quite a sizable amount as a matter of fact. He is living quite a productive and prosperous life at the present time because of that money."

"What a tale of treachery!" the Forester exclaimed. "If you need help in dealing with this turncoat, let me know. It should be a delight to help the forwarding of justice in this case."

"Whoa, hold the rage-train, Forest-boy," the Cavalier interrupted. "I'm not justifying what he did, but there's a sense in which you can't blame him. After all, he was seeing the destruction of a lot of things in his life. And if the old man really was in so much pain and was so irritable, he probably wouldn't have been much happier if he had lived."

"I would've done it if I were him," remarked Metal Kid, not looking up from his 3DS.

"But what he did was treat other people only as means to his own ends," said Yfi, speaking from Parkour's tablet. "And to do that is to deny our essential interdependence on one another."

"What he did was wrong, of course," said Hooded Angel slowly. "But it would be hard to be in your place, TD. I mean, it's done and it's not like you could bring him back to life. And it might be that everyone was happier in the long run for it."

Dr. Genius placed the tips of his fingers against each other. "Certainly, science dictates that there is no harm in eliminating those who can no longer enjoy and function properly in life. However, this boy's motives seem to have been anything but scientific."

"Are you all that stupid?" asked Discus, taking the cigarette from her mouth for a moment. "He killed his own uncle just for money--he's a murderer. How's that hard to understand?"

Silence drummed his fingers for a moment and then asked, "So what did you do?"

"As of yet nothing," Time's Detective answered. "There are several other more pressing cases with which I must deal. Remember, I just learned of this a short time ago. And I am not sure that at this late date I can gather any real proof of what I know--for, as you are no doubt aware, my sight of the past cannot be taken as evidence in court. But--"

"But?" Sky prompted.

"But if I find definitive proof, I will turn it over to the police. My reasons are my own--but I told the story for this reason. You all know now a fairly accurate historical picture of this case. And you have given a fairly wide range of reactions and reasoning. It is not my place here to argue whether your views are right or wrong. But you cannot possibly use history to make that decision. Knowing the accurate history of a matter allows you to know what you are talking about--but it cannot establish the criterion on which to evaluate it. I am a historian and when all is said and done, a historian is only a detective--not a judge." And with that, he returned to his seat in the corner of the room and reopened his book.

"Well, then how do you know?" There was a strange, abrupt, and irritated note to Hooded Angel's voice as he stood up.

"What do you mean?" asked Discus.

"This is serious business. I mean, we're just sitting around and talking about it now, but in a few minutes, we'll back hitting the streets. At least, I will be. I'll be out beating up people and getting shot at, and putting my life on the line to protect the law, to help people in need and you know the rest of it. But if you're all right--how can I--how can any of us keep up with our work? If there's no way to tell when all is said and done who is the villain and who is the hero, then what in the name of common sense are we doing out there?"

For a long moment no one answered and then Sky pushed himself forward in the chair. "So, tell me, Parkour, what do you think about all this?"

"What, me?" Parkour glanced up in surprise.

"You've been listening, haven't you? You weren't in on the beginning of the conversation, but you've been here for most of it. What do you think?"

"I don't know why you'd ask my opinion. I'm just an observer here."

"Yes, well, what can I say? I have a lot of respect for observers. But you're the only one here who hasn't expressed some kind of opinion yet."

Parkour grinned a little self-consciously. "If you really want to know what I think, I think that's your problem."

"What is?" asked Hooded Angel, looking at him curiously.

"Look, if you had some problem relating to digital stuff, you wouldn't ask me, would you? I might have some thoughts or ideas about it, but they wouldn't count for much because that's all they would be--thoughts and ideas. So you wouldn't ask me--you'd ask Yfi--because she knows pretty much everything there is to know about the digital world. Personally. While I might have opinions, she actually knows. Or if you had a question about some kind of science, you wouldn't ask me, you'd ask Dr. Genius--because he knows science. But if you wanted to know something about parkour, you wouldn't ask Yfi or Sky, you'd come to me--because it's the one thing I actually know, and probably know better than any of you--though I guess Silence and Hooded Angel know some too."

"But half of what I know, I've gotten from you," Hooded Angel pointed out.

"Thanks. But all I'm saying is that if you really want to find out about something, you need to ask someone who actually knows." He leaned forward and rested his chin on one arm. "Ever since I came in here, you've been talking about a lot of different things and I found it pretty interesting. But it seems like all you've said is 'I think...' or 'my feelings are...' I don't mean you've used those words, but it seems like that's all it comes down to. You all have different ideas, but it doesn't seem like they're anything more than that. "

"Well, I guess we have a right to have opinions," Discus protested, snuffing her last cigarette in the ash tray.

"Oh, you have a right to them--I didn't mean that you didn't. But--well--let's just put it this way. If you're going to be walking out on a beam fifty feet in the air, you want to be good and sure that it'll hold your weight. And I wouldn't trust my weight to any of your opinions. It's like--it's like they're not anchored to anything. They're just sitting there. And they may be pretty, but that's not enough to keep you up in the air. The only one of you who seems to have any kind of foundation for their ideas is Greenshade."

"Oh, so you're going religious now?" asked Dr. Genius scornfully.

Parkour looked a little amused. "I'm certainly not what you'd call religious, Dr. Genius. I don't even know if I believe there is a God or not. But I do see that if there is, then He would know what is right and wrong and could tell us about it. If there is a God, His word would be law. That's what I meant by saying that Greenshade at least had a foundation. All the rest of you just seem to be trying to make up the rules yourself which is good and all, but doesn't give you any sort of objective foundation." He grinned self-consciously again. "That's how it seems to me. But I suppose that's just my opinion too."

Discus stood to her feet and glared in turn at Parkour and Greenshade. "But Greenshade said himself that he believed it was all right for a parent to hit a child under certain circumstances--that's part of his 'revelation,' I guess. But how can we accept that?"

"I donno. What I'm wondering is--if you don't accept his 'revelation,' how can you know that it's wrong for parents to hit children under any circumstances?"

Parkour's words seemed to hover on the air for a long moment of silence. And then with a sort of explosive movement, everyone stood up.

"This whole conversation has been a waste of time," snapped Dr. Genius in an unusually impatient voice. "This situation with Bone Crusher has created some unique facets that I must see to. I have no more time to waste here."

"I guess I'd better get back on the job too," agreed Hooded Angel, straightening his hood.

"I actually need to be getting home," Sky admitted. "I'm done my work for the Futureplex, but I've got other stuff that I need to take care of."

There were other words exchanged but in a few minutes the group had broken up and Sky had taken flight from the porch of the Futureplex. But as he left, his mind was still full of the conversation of the afternoon. And he couldn't help wondering...