The Blower File: Part 6

Ian had memorized the location of a certain room in the hotel and now he walked casually but purposefully through the lobby and into the elevator. As he passed through the building, he couldn't help feeling a little awed (and annoyed) by its splendor. He was no stranger to elegant surroundings, but it had been a while since he had been in a place that was so obnoxiously lavish. Seriously, he couldn't quite understand why people liked this sort of thing.

The elevator stopped on the top story of the hotel and he passed out into a hallway that seemed even more lavish than the downstairs lobby. There was no noise in the hall--or maybe just the carpet deadened all the noise. He had the strangest feeling that he was walking through a dead ruin of some forgotten civilization, perfectly preserved.

He frowned. He was letting his imagination get away with him. He forced himself to concentrate, pushing out the weird ideas which--a little uncharacteristically--were filling his brain. He walked down the hall for its full length until he found the room he was looking for.

He knocked on the door and, without waiting for an answer, pulled it open.

The room was a lavish one, in keeping with the style of the hotel. At the back of the room, there was a large glass balcony door which took up one whole wall. On another wall, there was a massive flat-screened television. It was on, but the volume was so low that he could barely hear it. By the door, there was a large desk or table made of gleaming wood. In something of a contrast to the rest of the room, the table was cluttered and messy. At the table sat the occupant of the room, a young man of about nineteen or twenty. He was slender of build, but with a certain symmetry and sense of strength. He had jet black hair, which seemed to explode every which way from his head. He wore blue jeans and a sleeveless black shirt. And he was playing on a 3DS when Ian opened the door.

As soon as he saw Ian, he snapped the system shut and stood up. "'Sup, bro," he exclaimed as he and Ian fist-bumped.

"Hey, Ashton. I figured I'd find you in a place like this." He sat down in a large arm-chair which faced the desk and the wall with the television. "Your tastes certainly haven't changed any."

"There's nothing wrong with wanting the best." Ashton dropped back down into his chair and now sat facing Ian, one leg crossed. "So, I see you still haven't beaten my high score on War of Worldcraft."

"Hey, I did come pretty close though."

"You came pretty close to my old high score, you mean. I beat that myself last week. You really need to keep up with these things."

"Well, excuse me. I do actually have a life, unlike some people."

"That 'I have a life' crack is pretty bad coming from anybody, but coming from you it's really too much, Big Bro. I have a life, you know--at least, I'm pretty sure they wouldn't let a dead guy have a room like this."

"If he had enough money, they wouldn't care about his pulse. Seriously, how much is this room costing you?"

"Hey, it's coming out of my half of our inheritance, so you really don't need to worry about it."

Ian shook his head. He and Ashton looked fairly similar in appearance--enough that anybody could tell at a glance that they were brothers--and their interests ran along similar lines. But they had very different tastes in certain things. Even though Ian was the older by several years, a stranger would probably have guessed they were very close in age, as Ian always looked younger than he was. He was taller than Ashton by about an inch; he lacked a certain childishness of expression; and his hair was curly--otherwise, they could almost have been identical twins.

"I'm glad that you dropped by, Big Bro," continued Ashton after a slight pause. He smoothed back his messy hair--an instinctive motion of his. "We never get to hang out anymore. It's been, like, a month since I've even seen you."

"Not counting Skype."

"Well, even that, you've only called me once in the last month."

Ian took a deep breath and looked his brother in the face. "And I didn't just come to hang out today."

"Oh?" For just a second, a shadow flickered in Ashton's usually clear eyes. "Some kind of family emergency or something? Let's see--I know you're not going to announce that you're getting married or anything like that. We don't have any other family who could be sick. So this has to be about money, right?"

"Wrong." Ian leaned forward in his chair and when he spoke, his voice had dropped to a lower, more intense note. "Why did you come here?"

Ashton pushed himself back in the chair. A frown haunted his face but he didn't seem particularly surprised. "I should have known--the only time you ever come to see me anymore is if I'm in some kind of trouble. If I never got you mad, you'd probably even forget I exist."

Ian waved his hand impatiently in what was for him a very uncharacteristic gesture. "You know that's not true. But I need answers. Why did you come here?"

"I would think that would be obvious. Seriously, you're basically a detective and you come to me with a question like that?"

"Ashton, there are nine other copies of that Tetris cartridge still existent. A couple are in places where you and your friends could have stolen them easily. Why did you pick McHenry City to make your strike--and why today?"

"You'd have to take that up with Ace Professor--he's the one who plans these things. And in case you were thinking of playing the hero and getting it back, AP has it now and you're probably going to have to do some kind of sliding block puzzle if you want to find it. And I know how much you hate sliding block puzzles." Other than a momentary look of sullenness when Ian first broached the subject, Ashton seemed quite calm and casual.

"That's not important at this point. But stop playing games, Ashton."

Ashton smiled. "Playing games?" He picked up his 3DS again. "Come on, Ian, what else have we done our whole life except play games? What else is there to do in life but play games? Preferably, to win, of course. Which I do."

"I didn't come here for a lecture on your philosophy of life. I get enough of that hanging out with Greenshade."

"Well, maybe you should have thought of that before you sold out to the Futureplex."

"You're not being fair."

"Oh, right--like you're an expert at being fair."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"You're always trying to get back our prizes--the things we win by our own skill in fair battle."

"Your stolen goods, you mean."

"Tomayto, tomahto. We win; we get the prize. That's the way the game works."

Ian moved forward in his chair again. "Ashton, this real life. That's not the way the rules are. You're not inside a video game."

"Are you sure about that? Do you really think most of the people in a video game know they're in a video game? Maybe this is just the next gen in HD graphics. You can never really never know for sure until you see the GAME OVER flashing in the sky."

Ian shook his head. "I still can never believe you decide to become a criminal."

"Criminal? That's a little harsh, isn't it?"

"Look it up. The definition of a criminal is someone who breaks the law--which you and your friends do. And you do it just for the fun of it. Why?"

Ashton leaned back and cupped his hands behind the back of his neck. "I've always looked up to heroes. You know that. I've always rooted for the good guys. And you know what I noticed? You know what the primary difference--really, the only difference--between the good guys and the bad guys is?"

"What?"

"The good guys always win. Therefore, if I win, I must be a good guy."

Ian facepalmed. "OK, do you have any idea how many logical fallacies you just committed?"

"But just think about it--why do we like the good guys? Because they have something they believe in, something they're willing to fight for, and they fight for it no matter what it takes and no matter how hard it is--and in the end they achieve it. They follow their star--and don't take no for an answer. The bad guy is the one that either never has a definite goal or never achieves it."

"Ashton, I think you're confusing comic books and video games with real life again."

Ashton snapped his fingers. "Well, I guess you're entitled to your opinion. And, I mean, I'm not arguing with you. You've chosen your path in life. I've chosen mine."

"But yours happens to be a criminal path."

"And yours happens to be a judgmental path."

"That's not being judgmental."

"Now you're the one that needs to look something up. Judgmental means making judgments, and you're making lots of judgments about my life."

"OK, you've got me on that one."

“In life, we have to choose our path and follow it. Do you know how many paths a man must walk before he is a man?"

"No."

"Only one, so long as he walks it with all his heart. You, Big Bro, try to be a superhero, which I guess is all right if you like that sort of thing. I want to get a complete collection of classic game cartridges. So long as we both pursue our dream completely, that's all that matters, isn't it?"

Ian shook his head. "No. Even from your standpoint, it can't be right to hurt people."

"Hurt people? We don't hurt people. We leave that to you Futureplex types. We don't even try to hurt anyone--except you guys today, and I think we were justified since you attacked us first."

"You stole something worth fifteen grand from that store. You don't think that hurt them? Why else do you think they tried to stop you?"

"Of course they tried to stop us. That's their purpose. There wouldn't be any glory in victory if there wasn't a battle."

Ian raised his eyebrows. "So we all are here only to give you someone to fight?"

"Naturally. Everyone in the game exists only to hinder or to help the hero."

"Isn't that pretty egotistical?"

"It's not egotistical. They don't exist just for me."

"No?"

"No, there are four of us. It's a co-op game. That's called friendship--and friendship is magic."

Ian facepalmed again. And then he looked serious. "And what would your friends do if they knew you had a brother who worked for the Futureplex?"

"The same thing your friends at the Futureplex would do if they knew you had a brother who was a supervillain--at least, that's what they'd call me."

"Villain, yes. Supervillain--I don't know that I'd go that far."

"A rose by any other name--well--you know what I mean. But, again, I don't think I'm a villain at all. I'm a hero. I have a goal, and I'm achieving it. I've picked my star and I'm following it."

"But you're not a wise man--so has it occurred to you that you may have picked the wrong star?"

"So long as I follow it, it doesn't really matter."

"And what if you fail? What if you end up going to prison for grand larceny?"

"Well, I'll still have the consolation of knowing that I accomplished something with my life. Anyway, I don't have much fear about that. You've certainly never been able to stop us and all your little Futureplex friends seemed pretty futile, too."

"Excuse me? We had you. You were forced to run away."

"That's not the way I remember it."

"Well, anyway, even with all your fancy toys, you can't expect to win forever. And suppose you do always win? Suppose you commit all your robberies and never get caught? What then? Do you really think that will satisfy you? Do you really think that will make you happy?"

"Why don't I turn that question around, Big Bro? Your work for the Futureplex--does it satisfy you? Does it really make you happy?"

Ian hesitated for just a moment in answering that. "At least, I'm helping people. I'm making the world a better place."

"Oh, right." Ashton shook his head. "The making-the-world-a-better-place line. Should've seen that one coming. Well, let me ask you something--once the world comes to an end, how much is it going to matter that you made it a little better? And frankly, I expect that to happen any time now--when you've got a man like Heroman tampering with the atomic substratum of the universe; when you've got an organization like the Futureplex which stands outside all society playing god; when you've got a two-bit dictator like Dr. Koan with weapons of mass destruction and his own private superhero--"

"Wait, what?" Ian interrupted. That Asenath Koan, the military dictator of Santa Barbara, had weapons of mass destruction was a fairly major topic of conversation and concern across the world. But he had never heard that-- "Dr. Koan has a superhero working for him?"

"Yeah, one of those color-coded guys like your friend Greenshade."

"How do you know that?"

"That's not really the point, is it, Big Bro? All I'm saying is that with some of the stuff going on around here, I really expect the end of the world to come sooner than later. And when that happens, all your work to 'make the world a better place' is going to be meaningless."

"And what if the end of the world isn't an event, but a person?"

"What on earth is that supposed to mean?"

"No idea. But it worked on Fine Print--I thought it might work on you."

Ashton waved his hand as if to dismiss the objection. "Ian, you're not stupid. I think you know everything I'm saying is true. What do you fight for? For adventure? For progress? For glory?" Ashton stood up. "Ultimately, we're basically the same, you and me. We're both just trying to find some kind of meaning in life by pursuing a dream. Why did you really chose to work for the Futureplex? Was it really because you believe that the world can be made better and that the Futureplex is really very likely to do it even if it's possible? Or was it just because it gave you something to do--a sense of purpose--a sense of belonging? It's a nasty job, but it's still better than just sitting around doing nothing. Well, that's my story too. I became what you call a villain for the same reason that you became what you call a hero. Which means, ultimately, there's no real difference between us--except this. The fact that you don't understand. You call me a villain, but I don't call you one. You're just a rival. You have a goal and you're pursuing it--it's different from mine and that may cause us to clash sometimes, but I can still respect what you fight for and the fact that you fight for it."

Ian stood up suddenly also. "You're just justifying yourself with a lot of rhetoric. None of it changes the fact that you're a criminal."

"Well, you're a superhero. Why don't you arrest me, then, huh? Because you can't. You know perfectly well that Ashton Lake is really Ace Trainer, but you can't prove it."

Ian's fists clenched in an involuntary movement of frustration. "So this is just another case where you get away with anything, and I just have to sit back and do nothing?" His voice was rising slightly in intensity.

"Oh, I get it now." Ashton's voice was rising too, but he smoothed his hair back calmly. "You're still upset about that time when I was six and I broke the lamp and you got in trouble for it. Bro, don't you think it's time you moved on?"

"Easy for you to say. But that's not the point. The point is that you're a criminal."

"So what? You're going to be the big, bad superhero and arrest me? Me, your own brother? You know Dad and Mum would roll over in their graves at something like that."

"As if." Ian knew he was losing control of his temper, something which almost never happened, but he couldn't stop it. "Unless being dead has changed their perspective, you know they don't and never did care about what happened to us or what we did, so long as we all had plenty of money."

"So they were a little materialistic. That's no reason to be so bitter about it."

"Who's bitter?"

"You are, by the sound of it. Look, our parents liked collecting money. I like collecting Video Games. You like collecting good guy points. We're all happy."

"No, we're not."

"Well, I am--and you could be if you'd stop obsessing about things. You should join us, Big Bro. We've got opening for a lot of new talent. I've been working out some new roles; I'm sure one of them would fit you: Ace Plumber: ability--fixing pipes and shooting fire, ice, etceteras; Ace Hedgehog: ability--running really fast and destroying any machine by bumping your head against it; Ace Espionage Agent: ability--hiding in boxes and making long, cynical speeches in moments of intense danger; Ace Assassin--I think that one's pretty much self-explanatory. I think you'd do great with that one. You could rock the hoodie look. That grungy t-shirt look is so last year."

"I didn't come here to have you criticize my clothing choices."

"Then why did you come? It wasn't just to hang out with your little brother, obviously."

"I came to find out why you and your friends chose to show up here. And by the way, how on earth did you get all that updated tech?"

"We've been busy. I knew we'd need the best for this battle. But as far as anything about strategy, as I said, you'd have to take that up with Ace Professor."

Ian's hands had contracted into fists again. "You know. And I could force you to tell me."

"Just for the record, you're the first one to mention intimidation and violent means of extracting information--even though, technically, I'm the supervillain here."

"Don't try changing the subject." But Ian took a step back--he was a little startled that he really had just made a threat like that. It definitely wasn't his normal MO.

“Well, then let's try this subject,” continued Ashton, taking a step forward. “I know you always think that if it really came down to it, you'd be the tougher of the two of us, just because you're just an inch taller than me--but are you really sure? All our friendly fights have ended in draws. Do you really think you could win a real one?"

"Do you really think it matters?" Ian retook his ground, and Ashton moved back and dropped into his chair.

"No, no I don't," admitted Ashton leaning back. "Because ultimately what wins battles isn't brute force, but friendship. That's the difference between us--I have friends."

"You have friends which you make for yourself out of synthetic metal."

"Hey, if you ever get any friends, I won't criticize them--I ask you to do the same for me." He began playing with a small red and white ball which was buried among the junk on his desk.

Ian noted the ball a little nervously, but he didn't show his feelings. “If you pull out a monster here, you'll destroy the room. Is that what you want?”

“Who said anything about pulling out a monster?” Ashton spun the ball between his thumb and middle finger. It whirled around in place on the desk several times and came to a stop, facing Ian.

Ian's eyes grew wide. On the ball was drawn a face with very angry eyes. The wasn't one of Ashton's normal balls. It didn't contain a monster--it was a monster.

Ashton nodded as he noted Ian's expression. “And you don't have any kind of weapon without your exoskeleton. It takes you at least twenty seconds to get it out of your pockets and in place, and before you do that, we can attack. And even so, what can you do?" For just a second, electric sparks danced around the sphere. “I know how much you love setting off sprinklers, but water conducts electricity.”

Ian had been staring across the room. Now he sat down on the edge of his chair, a slight note of tenseness or preparation in his stance. His anger of a moment before was gone and he was his ordinary calm, cool, collected self. "Yes, but the Fire Suppression System in this hotel uses a chemical-based spray rather than a water-based one--and it doesn't conduct electricity, making it the perfect attack against an electric-type monster.”

“How on earth would you know that?”

"Ashton, why do you have the TV on if you're not watching it?"

"What?" Some instinct made Ashton glance over his shoulder. As he did, the sprinklers activated. Rather than raining down over the whole room, they sent a concentrated jet of some dark-colored chemical precisely at the spherical object on the desk. Ashton whirled back around, and as he did, the door flew open and Hooded Angel leaped into the room, followed by the Forester.

“Your monster is too exhausted to fight,” said Ian calmly, glancing up at Ashton. "You're attacked by two super-heroes. What do you do?"

Ashton seemed to freeze for just a moment and then he caught up the ball and threw it at the Forester. At the same moment, he leaped backward over his chair and dashed to the window. Hooded Angel fired his grapnel at him, but he evaded and threw open the door to the balcony. As he did, he pulled something out of his pocket and threw it out of their line of sight, shouting out: “Fly!”

The Forester avoided the projectile, but it prevented him from following the fugitive.

Hood rushed to the door and then shook his head. "Greenshade, do you have anything?" he asked, speaking into his comm.

Greenshade floated in through the doorway. "He had that dragon again. I tried to follow but he threw up some kind of smoke screen."

"Smokescreen--yeah, I guess we should have expected that." Ian had dusted himself off somewhat automatically and now was unfolding his exoskeleton.

"Discus, you can break position," said Hood, speaking again into his comm. "We've lost our target."

"And he's not very likely to come back here as long as he thinks we're around," finished Sky. "So, what was it that tipped you guys off and made you follow me?"

"Yfi was worried about you when she couldn't make contact with you. But she found out that you had been hacking the records of this hotel earlier--and she noted the presence of someone with your last name."

"Also," added Greenshade, "I was a little puzzled by the way you were so insistent on being responsible for the Flying Aces, even though there wasn't any logical reason for you to feel that way. Besides, I was bugged by the fact that you even had an archenemy even though your primary power is the fact that nobody outside the Futureplex knows you exist."

"The entire way you were acting earlier," Hood continued, "it was all out of character for you. It made us worried."

"Right," said Sky, dryly. "Psychiatry and OCD for the win."

"But, as I said," said Hooded Angel as they walked out unto the balcony, "it was Yfi who was really the catalyst in all this."

"And with as much digital tech as Ashton has lying around in there, it was simple for her to listen in on our conversation and find out what was going on."

Hooded smoothed out his cape a little uncomfortably. "At the time, we thought something might be--well--wrong. If I'd known--"

"It's just as well you did show up." Sky flipped on his invisibility shield. "I don't think Ashton would have attacked me, but I'm never sure about him anymore. I frankly did feel relieved when I saw Yfi messing with the TV and knew she was here. I was hoping I might be able to get some info out of Ashton if I talked with him one on one, but obviously..." he shrugged. And then he frowned, not that anyone could see it. "Actually, Ashton did give me one clue. He said he and his friends had been preparing for some time for this. Maybe he just meant that some kind of clash with the Futureplex was inevitable. But it almost sounded as if he knew in advance that whatever is happening here in McHenry City would happen."

"How is that possible?" asked the Forester.

"No idea." Sky had moved out unto the balcony now. "Unless there something going on far beyond the surface, something we haven't even begun to suspect yet."

Greenshade, Hooded Angel, and the Forester followed him. Sky couldn't help smiling to himself, even though he was a little upset--but it was so funny to see Hooded Angel so embarrassed. "Sky, I--I'm sorry about barging in on your--"

"On our little family fight," Sky finished. "Hood, don't worry about it. I just wish I could have gotten some info out of him."

"I am a little disturbed by the info you did get," said Greenshade. He paused to pick up the Forester and then he and Sky flew over the edge of the balcony. They coasted through the air and landed on the roof of an adjacent building where Discus and Parkour were waiting for them. Hooded Angel glided over the gap behind them, using his cape. "Do you really think your brother knew what he was talking about? When he said that Dr. Koan has a superhero working for him?"

"I don't see how he would have that kind of information if nobody else knows it." He sighed. "Let's face it. Ashton is just a kid, playing games on a grand scale."

"Just?" repeated Hooded Angel. "Considering the power level of he and his friends, I don't think you can say 'just'."

"He's my little brother, I'm allowed to be condescending to him if I want."

"Sorry about everything," said Parkour as they reached him. He seemed even more embarrassed than Hooded Angel.

"It's fine. Don't worry about it. By the way, Greenshade, there's something I've been wondering about."

"What?"

"When you were talking to Fine Print, you said, 'What if the end of the world isn't an event but a person?' What's that supposed to mean?"

Greenshade had phased off his armor and now looked at Sky (or at the point where Sky's voice came from) curiously. "It's a little involved. Do you really want to know?"

"Yes." Anything was better than talking about Ashton. "I assume by a person you mean God."

"Of course."

Sky drummed his fingers against his control rods. "The case Fine Print was making was that when the world came to an end, it wouldn't make any difference how he lived."

"Essentially. And your brother was saying about the same thing."

"Though his argument was more existentialist," added Hooded Angel. "He was arguing that since life has no meaning, we create our own."

"Philosophy meets psychology. Should've figured." Discussing Ashton's viewpoint had not been part of his plan. "And I know you're going to say that God gives meaning to life, right?"

"You're beginning to pick up on things."

"Well, I do hang around Evangelicals a lot. And I don't see how this helps any."

"How what helps any?"

Sky could almost read Greenshade's thoughts. Greenshade was thinking that he was being less coherent than usual. "OK, the argument is that all human activity is ultimately futile because it all has a point of termination. Nothing we do is permanent and therefore it has no value."

"Must a thing endure to have value?" asked the Forester.

"Well, that's the argument. We can enjoy temporary things, but only permanent things can have real value."

"That was the argument that both Fine Print and your brother were making, yes."

"Well, doesn't Christianity leave you with the same problem? The folks at EPAC are always talking about how the world is about to end and I always thought that it was kind of silly because it makes everything that EPAC does essentially pointless. The world was doomed to get worse and worse until it came to an end, they said, and then they spent all their time trying to reform our political system."

"All right, let's make one thing clear right from the start. We're good friends, aren't we, Sky?"

"I think that would be an accurate way to state it."

"Then I'm not going to discuss eschatology with you. Friendships are too precious to be wasted like that."

"Escha-what?" asked Parkour.

"Eschatology, the study of last things, from the Greek word eskhatos meaning last." Yfi had certain advantages from being more or less permanently grafted to Google.

"OK, but whether you think the end of the world will be today or in two thousand years and whether you think it'll be brought about by nuclear war, an act of God, or zombies, doesn't it still leave you with the same problem?"

"Aren't you being a little antagonistic, Sky?" asked Hooded Angel, glancing up with a troubled expression. Sky could almost see the psychologist's gleam in his eyes.

Greenshade shook his head. "No, he has a valid point. And it goes back to what I said about the end of the world being a person rather than an event. And I suppose it also involves a sort of double meaning inherent in the word end. Even apart from the Bible, if you consider the world scientifically, you have to see that the world will come to an end eventually. I'm not a scientist, but I do know that science believes that matter and energy cannot be created or destroyed, and so there's a set amount of energy in the universe. But entropy prevents that energy from being used and given enough time, all the energy in the universe will go into entropy and become useless and the universe will become 'dead' for all practical purposes."

"Wow, that sounds cheerful," remarked Parkour. "But that's not supposed to happen for millions of years, right?"

"You'd have to take that up with Dr. Genius. I'm sure he could give you an exact figure down to the day. My point is that the end of the world is not specifically a Christian problem. Given the nature of the universe, it cannot last forever."

"And when it ends, all the Christians go to Heaven, and everyone else goes to Hell," finished Sky. "But since that still involves the end of the world, I'm still a little unclear on your point."

"Well, even that's a simplification of what Christians believe, but we won't get into the Resurrection here."

Hooded Angel shook out his cape. "Look, Greenshade, you know I respect your religion even though I don't agree with it. But I really don't think--speaking as a psychiatrist--that trying to get people to be always thinking about death and the end of the world is really healthy."

Greenshade glanced at him. "Was I doing that? I didn't know I was. I don't think about either one that often, myself. But it seems like it's even more unhealthy to deliberately avoid thinking about them."

"Well, yes, that's true, I guess."

"One must face death," said the Forester, "face its existence and its power and then mock it, before one can truly know life."

There was a slight pause in which Greenshade, Hooded Angel, and Sky glanced at each other. "Uh--" Hooded Angel began finally-- "I don't even think I want to touch that one."

"I actually know what he means," said Parkour, "though I'd never be able to say it like that. But in doing parkour, you've got to have that attitude. If you just ignore danger, you'll never learn to be cautious. If you just try to suppress your fear, you'll lose your concentration when you need it the most. You've got to face the danger, admit it, and then go on anyway."

Greenshade nodded. "I guess I can follow that. I remember the Argent Fist talking about that back in our Polytechnic days. He had some quotation from Chesterton, too. Something about how courage means combining a love of life and contempt of death. But--"

"But?" pressed Sky.

"Well, that's a good attitude as attitudes go. But we're all adults here--except Parkour and Yfi and they're pretty much adults by now--and I think we're all mature enough to realize that there's more to life than just having a good attitude."

"You can say that again," remarked Discus cynically. "You also need money."

Sky nodded. Discus definitely needed money. He had calculated once how much money she must spend on cigarettes based on how many he saw her smoke in a given period of time. It had been a scary figure.

The Forester frowned. He never could understand Discus's humor. "I would rather have courage than any amount of money. It is courage alone which gives us the power to face death as men."

"And women."

Greenshade had that slight smile in his voice he always got when he was about to make a point. "You can face death with courage. And you can face it like a coward. And once your dead, what difference is there? What is the difference between the corpse of a brave man--or woman--and the corpse of a coward?"

"Nothing," the Forester admitted. "Nothing that would be clear to a scientist. Yet there is all the difference in the world."

"I don't see how--not from your point of view. They were very different when they were alive, but not once they're dead. You said 'all the difference in the world' but that difference--that point of distinction--no longer is in the world; it no longer exists. Their courage and their cowardice are no longer around. And the problem goes farther than that. Suppose the difference is that one man sacrifices his life to save his friend. Sooner or later that friend is going to die anyway. At that point, what difference does that act of courage make?"

"Is that Nihilism?" asked Yfi curiously.

"Maybe. I'm not enough of a philosopher to define it. I just know that logically that's the problem. And it actually goes back to something in the Bible, the book of Ecclesiastes."

Sky drew his legs up under himself. "That's the one with all the vanities in it, right?"

"Right. Traditionally attributed to Solomon."

"Solomon." Discus's voice registered recognition. "He was a chauvinist, wasn't he?"

"If having 700 wives and 300 concubines makes you a chauvinist, then yes."

"It makes you something all right," said Hooded Angel darkly.

"Certainly, it was a pretty stupid choice for a man gifted with unusual wisdom. But that's not the point. The point of Ecclesiastes is that life under the sun--that is, human life considered simply as human life--is pointless or empty--it is vanity of vanities. Because, in the end, everyone dies and all their work means nothing. Wisdom is better than folly, but the fool dies and the wise man dies and in that they are indistinguishable."

"Wow, this conversation is getting really depressing," commented Parkour, turning a backflip.

"Well, so the Bible essentially agrees with Fine Print and Ashton then."

"No. Because that's not the final point of Ecclesiastes and it's certainly not the final point of the Bible."

"Then what is?"

"'Let us hear the conclusion of the whole matter: Fear God, and keep his commandments: for this is the whole duty of man. For God shall bring every work into judgment, with every secret thing, whether it be good, or whether it be evil.' Those are the final words of Ecclesiastes and they really stand for the entire message of Scripture."

"So you do what you do so you can go to Heaven when you die?"

"Obviously, that's part of it, but I know you're thinking that really doesn't answer your question."

"Well, yes, actually."

For a moment, Greenshade paused and then commented with seeming irrelevance. "Do you know the major problem with being both a superhero and a preacher?"

"Never getting enough sleep?" suggested Hooded Angel.

"Spending all your time helping people and not getting enough appreciation?" suggested Sky.

"Or money," added Discus.

"Giving all your life for a higher cause and knowing that to most of the world, both of your lives seem chimerical and insane?" said the Forester.

"No, actually. I was going to say, the biggest problem is that you come up with all kinds of sermon illustrations that you can never use."

Sky chuckled. "Though, I don't know. I might find church more interesting if I heard a preacher say randomly, 'The other night I was beating up some punks on a rooftop when something happened which reminded me of this passage of Scripture...'"

"Would kinda ruin that whole 'secret identity' thing, though," Parkour pointed out, scratching his nose.

"Exactly."

"So you have a story to make your point?"

Greenshade nodded. "You know I was only thirteen when I became a superhero. There were seven of us kids--all between thirteen and fifteen--suddenly pushed into the roles of superheroes, seven teenagers with aptitude given suits of super-powered armor. And not only did we get the suits and their attendant powers, but we had to go to work immediately. The existence of the Control Center forced us into battle. Not only was the CC threatening the entire country--the entire world--but more personally, we could easily have been recaptured or eliminated by them."

Hooded Angel nodded. "You've told us that story before."

"My Uncle Mark was our--our sensei, for lack of a better word. Even though he certainly had no training as a hero, he somehow came up with a program for training us. We didn't have much time, so our training was fairly intense. Sometimes we would train in the secret bunker underneath the trailer park--"

"Wait," Parkour interrupted. "There was a secret bunker underneath your trailer park?"

"It's a long story. Anyway, sometimes we trained there, sometimes in a field outside of town. When we were out there, Uncle Mark would only monitor us remotely, because he needed to conceal his connection to the Polytechnics. We would go through various drills with our specific powers or perform mock battles with each other--well, most of the time they were mock. We'd go home at the end of the day. The battles were all over and in one sense they didn't mean anything anymore. But if we got back and Uncle Mark said we'd done a good job, then it all mattered." Greenshade suddenly phased on his armor. Sky couldn't help wondering if it was to hide his expression. When he spoke, his voice was lower. "And there's something else. Since my parents died before I became a superhero, I sometimes wonder--well--what they would think of everything I've accomplished since. I sometimes imagine meeting somewhere in the future. And--and sometimes think when I'm doing something, everything will be worthwhile if, when I do meet them, my father puts his hand on my shoulder, and says, 'I'm proud of everything you've done.'"

Hooded Angel shook out his cape with a nervous motion. Sky knew he had some psychiatrist things he wanted to say but felt it wouldn't be appropriate.

"Sooo--" said Sky after an awkward pause-- "your analogy is that all of your life has meaning because you're are living so as to please God, and since God is eternal, your actions in life have some kind of trans-temporal meaning."

"I'm not sure I would say it quite that way, but yes. That's what I meant about the end of the world being personal. The end of the world is not just a termination of the events of life. God is the end of the world just as He is the beginning."

"That's a Bible verse, isn't it? 'The Alpha and Omega, the Beginning and the End'?"

"Yes. Because the world isn't just going to vanish like a canoe going ever a falls; it's going to be brought to conclusion by a person like the grand finale of an opera."

"You're into opera?" asked Parkour in surprise.

"Not particularly, but I have worked alongside Time's Detective so I certainly know about it. But my point is that the end of the world is not simply a termination.” Greenshade phased off his armor and glanced around with an unusually serious expression. “God made the world and God will unmake it; He is the Lord of Time and of Eternity; and therefore I believe that our actions, the things we do have meaning, do have a significance that lasts beyond time itself. That's what I was trying to explain to Fine Print."

The Forester shook his head. Sky noticed that he was still holding Ace Trainer's sphere and was now tossing it up and down as he spoke. "Your words are very good, Greenshade. But do you really believe that the value of things lies only in some eternal reward or punishment?"

"That's not quite what I'm saying, Forester. What I mean is that everything has its value because of God, and since even when the world ends, God will still be God, then that value is not temporary."

"This is really getting philosophical," said Parkour, stretching his fingers behind his head.

Discus threw away her cigarette. "What do you expect with Greenshade and the Forester together on one rooftop?"

Greenshade ignored the interruption. "You used the example of courage earlier. Why is courage better than cowardice, even though both the coward and the brave man die alike? Simply because courage is in accordance with God's nature--because courage pleases God. And since God is eternal, courage will never cease to have value. The reward or punishment comes secondary to that. Courage is not good because it is rewarded; it will be rewarded because it is good."

The Forester tossed the ball into the air again. "Perhaps there is something to what you say. And yet, would it not be nobler to believe that virtue exists alone, without any support from God?"

"Well, I'm not discussing what is noble, Forester--just what is true. But let me just ask this; unless virtue is founded in God, then how does anything we do in this temporal life have any value? Doesn't it seem as if all our values must be transitory if there is nothing in all reality that is truly permanent?"

"Certainly, I know the feeling of which you speak, but still--" The Forester stopped abruptly and stared at his hand blankly.

Greenshade and Hooded Angel spun around and looked at him. "What!" they said almost in unison.

Sky had been floating about a foot above the ground but now he dropped to the ground and flipped off his invisibility shield. "All right, let's just make sure we all just saw the same thing. Did that ball just vanish out of his hand?"

"Yeah, I'm pretty sure it did," said Parkour, rubbing his head.

"Self-destruction?" suggested Hooded Angel.

"If it had used Self-Destruct, it would have injured the Forester. Anyway, I'm sure I saw a flash of something--something green. Greenshade?"

"I had my armor phased off. It couldn't have been me."

Hooded Angel's face suddenly grew stern. "Bone Crusher. With the Heroic Ion, he could move quickly enough to do that."

"First of all, why would Bone Crusher sneak in and steal something like that? Anyway, someone with the Heroic Ion creates an atomic anomaly; they stand at the center of a maelstrom of nuclear energy. If the Heroic Ion is active, then Bone Crusher's presence here would have been picked up as an energy signature on my sensors. There is something here, but it's faint. The Heroic Ion would have left a trail as big as the Grand Canyon."

"Then what was it?" asked Yfi.

Sky sighed. "I thought this day was winding down to its conclusion. But now I'm afraid that it's just getting started."