Dante

  “Interesting tech,” I admit. “Not what I expected, but cool.” We’re in a big tech warehouse on the edge of town, right on the edge just before the mountains turn into desert. I drove, or rather Barry’s loaner self-driving Lamborghini did while I held the wheel and tried to act inconspicuous. We really need a minivan or a beat-up pickup if we’re serious about this cloak-and-dagger stuff. But all of Barry’s kit makes him look like a Bond villain’s rich uncle. Instead of just mine.

  An open crate of suspiciously advanced looking gear lays open in front of us. I stand back and watch as Anton sets aside the now-open front of the box.

  “What were you expecting?” Anton asks, sorting through some packages. “Your own form-fitting superhero costume?”

  I laugh. “As if.”

  Anton tosses me a vacuum-sealed packet.

  “What’s this?”

  “Your form-fitting superhero costume.”

  “Seriously?”

  Anton shrugs. “There’s more to it than that. Try it on, and I’ll explain.” He waves at a nearby door on the back wall. “There’s an open janitor’s closet you can change in, through there. ‘Cause, y’know, we’re classy and all.”

  I glance down at the clothes. “So this is why you asked my favorite color, then?”

  “And your favorite animal. Yeah, we were asking for this. And also because we’re lame conversationalists.”

  “And the sizes?” I ask as I rip through the vacuum seal. “How’d you get those?”

  “AI.” Oh. Nothing more to be said.

  The package is… hefty. Not one outfit, but five, all but one of which have the shoes in common, but which otherwise looked like different styles. Clothes for all occasions. Something for fashionable nightlife, a couple casual ensembles for the daily life of someone living… an exceptional life, and hiking gear for a guy who definitely knows what he’s doing but probably has his own outdoor-life reality show anyway. Oh, and some form-fitting exercise clothes, which comes closest to matching my expectations.

  Not my first guess at what ‘superhero gear’ would look like.

  Anton caught my expression. “Hey, we can do flashy if you want flashy. But when your gear is an asset, not just a fashion statement, we want you wearing it when things get hot. Having cool cape or suit of armor in your closet doesn’t do you much good when things go down an hour away.” He shakes his head. “Not if you’re already in the middle of it.”

  I nod, and go back to change.

  ***

  “Analyzing,” a voice says through my earbuds. Not Verge or another of my AIs, but something new.

  “What’s it analyzing?” I ask.

  “For now? Your chi meridians and a few other parameters. Give it a sec.”

  “What does it do?”

  “A bunch of things. But you know how you wanted to take your chi training to the next level? Let it know what you’re trying for, do your katas or other exercises, and it can stimulate the points on your meridian. Giving you the ideal chi configuration for whatever you’re trying to do. Or as much as it can manage on its end.”

  “Huh.”“It also uses some low-intensity near and far-infrared to enhance energy at the cellular level, has thermoelectric heating and cooling to adjust body temperature, and toughens under impact. Great for sports or fighting, basically. Oh, and it can adjust compression to boost specific muscle groups for things like lifting. All of it handled by AI. And it can sync with Verge, Lyrica, whoever. So your own AIs can be running things.”

  I blink. “And you give this to everyone?”

  “Just to athletes and anyone on the Archon track.” Anton holds up a jacket on a hanger. “This is what we give to everyone.”

  “And that is…?” I ask, eyeing it cautiously.

  “Not much. Just a waterproof Kevlar weave with a backing layer of graphene wafers. And barely a trace of non-Neutonian fluids for impact absorption.”

  I stare at him. “Seriously?”

  “Considering how we met – the first time – I’d expect you to understand.” Anton shakes the jacket slightly. “Come on, try it on. It pays you back every time you’re not perforated.”

  I slip on the jacket. “How much does it take to outfit your new recruits? Actually, how many recruits are you getting?”

  “We’ve got a few likely prospects this year,” Anton admits. “You, Haley if we can talk her into it, a couple others.”

  “Building out fast, huh?” I grin at him.

  Anton shrugs. “By our standards, absolutely. But it’s harder than it sounds. There just aren’t that many people who can handle the crazier things we run into. Half the school are at least savants, but violinists and vocalists don’t study fighting, biceps and boxing can’t cut off a memetic attack and hacking and handball don’t mean you’re good with people.”

  I cock my head and raise an eyebrow. “You do realize we’re a bunch of students, right?”

  Anton snorts. “Exceptional students, even in a school full of geniuses, so we’ve got more to draw on that your usual crew. But even if we didn’t, letting some kid get in too deep and get their face chewed off isn’t helping them. Or anybody.”

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  “You didn’t mention the face chewing.” Nope, pretty sure there was no talk of face chewing. I’d remember that.

  “After your first night, I didn’t think I needed to. But yeah, not everyone comes after us with memes or guns. That’s pretty tame, all things being unequal.”

  “And my being a low-grade Paragon—”

  “Means infinite potential.” Anton waves a hand. “Or high enough potential in anything you care to name, anyway. So we at least know you can be trained up to handle anything.” He sighs. “So you, Andrea, Gavin and whatever Haley and our other prospect turn out to be. We’re heavily weighted to Paragons.”

  “And you’re…?”

  Anton laughs dismissively. “A big guy with a sense of humor, mainly, who’s just along for the ride. You saw my stats. We’ve got people who definitely aren’t Paragons, but are still invaluable. Arden, Christopher, Casey – who you haven’t met yet – and so on.”

  He’s deflecting. And deprecating his ‘stats’ is part of the game. I’ve already seen enough of Anton to know he’s far more than the Archon class clown. But I let it ride. There are so many other questions to ask, first. “How does the school feel about all this?”

  “Mostly, they don’t know. A few students, faculty, key funders. The rest of them are in the dark about how much is going on beneath the surface, just keeping this thing independent and operational.”

  “Where do you meet?”

  “Wherever we have to. Since our status isn’t official, it’s not like we have our own dorm, or anything. So if we’re using a place, it usually belongs to a member. Or, y’know, a member’s uncle or something. But we’ve got a couple unofficial sites in the area, and I’ll be showing you those.”

  “Once I’m no longer probationary?”

  “You catch on fast.”

  ***

  Originally, I’d brought up Lyrica’s idea for spurring our memories, and the Aspects had all listened intently – first Anton, then Andrea and Christopher when we met up with them. And Arden.

  Then we tried it and got… a few hints of memories.

  A month later, and Lyrica and Logos are still trying to work up something to restore what I’ve lost.Apparently the Aspects have been working the problem, too, and I’m not the only one bothered by gaps in memory. Especially any imposed against my will by dark, creepy figures operating in the shadows.

  But the topic keeps coming up because, well, we’re making progress by inches, when we make any at all. Despite having memories ranging from excellent to photographic.

  ***

  “I have a theory,” I tell them finally, after hours of staring at one enhanced and expanded photo after another on Barry’s flatscreen TVs.

  “Oh?” Andrea asks, raising an eyebrow.

  “That crystal you pulled out while we were running away. Anton mentioned you can use it to contact the Seraphim?”

  She looks over at Anton, who spreads his hands innocently, or maybe just defensively. “He did, did he?”

  I nod. “I have a faint memory. That maybe they were fighting over me, but carefully, trying not to break me – us – while they did so.”

  “The Seraphim were fighting each other?” Chris asks. “That’s new.”

  “Or maybe not each other, but…” I shift uncomfortably on Barry’s leather couch. “But fighting something very like themselves.”

  They stare at me.

  “That’s… definitely new,” Anton responds, finally.

  I shrug. “Just an impression. And then I had another feeling, like I fought them as hard as I could, just to hold them at bay, and then something pulled them away.”

  “Interesting,” Anton admits.

  “But that still doesn’t tell us what they were after. Even if the Seraphim were trying to keep you out of the hands of that shadowy figure, it begs the question of what he was doing there.”

  “And what the connection he has to the knights, the bird drones, the regular quad drones, and if any of them tie back to the Circle or are their own thing.”

  “All good points,” Anton acknowledges.

  We sit in silence for a few minutes. This lost time, lost memory thing is driving me nuts. But in a slow burn, I-can’t-stop-working-the-problem kind of way.

  We keep sitting there mutely, staring at the giant digital photos as they march left-to-right across Barry’s TVs in a continuous slideshow, until someone finally breaks the silence.

  “Soooo…” Chris begins. “Crazy Idea Time.”

  “Ooh, I love these,” Anton says with a grin, rubbing his hands together.

  Andrea sighed in a tone that says ‘I don’t.’ “Out with it, Chris.”

  “What if… Dante wasn’t being controlled or brainwashed or whatever? What if he was meant to be in the state we found him in? The state we found ourselves in?”

  “Like a hypnotic party drug, or something?” Anton asks. Everyone stares at him. “Hey, this place has a nightlife. I’m just sayin’.”

  “Not a one-man party,” Chris says. “But what if he really needed you to tap into your deepest reserves? For something he needed you to do for him?”

  “And I went into some kind of deep hypnosis to do it?” I ask. “And that guy was just helping me along, or something? Why wouldn’t I come back out, then?”

  “Maybe you weren’t done,” Andrea suggests. “We did break you out of it.”

  Anton snorts. “Or broke you out after whatever it was gave up and left you with us.”

  “I was thinking something a little less voluntary,” Chris says. “What if you wanted to use a basilisk hack on someone, but were afraid they were too smart to puppeteer through your normal hacks?”

  “You’re thinking something tailored?” I ask. That’s… troubling.

  “Maybe custom – just for you. And if it was… Well, you’re obviously good at puzzles and problems. Mix hard questions in with hypnosis, visual puzzles in with brainwave driving, maybe gas the air or spike your drink, all with a giant basilisk hack on top, and—”

  “Bam! You’re a vegetable,” Anton concludes.

  “You think it’s that easy?” I ask.

  “I doubt you’re that easy,” Andrea interjects. “Not as a Paragon. But if someone knew you, had enough of your mind mapped out ahead of time…”

  “Which seems to be the idea, already,” Anton notes.

  “You could be more vulnerable, not less,” Chris muses. “Especially if it hinges on things only a mind of your caliber might pick up on. Hypnosis in multiple languages you happen to speak, social cues only you’d pick up on, mathematical puzzles most of us wouldn’t even realize were there, and so on.”

  “You all seem really familiar with this kind of hypnosis,” I observe.

  “Not by choice,” Andrea says, her eyes darkening to a storm gray.

  “This many Enhanced, on top of all the money and technology here?” Chris shrugs. “It attracts all kinds.”

  “All kinds of lunatics, he means,” Anton clarifies. “I mean nuttier than a whole warehouse full of nuts. Absolutely, totally—”

  “We’ve had some encounters,” Andrea sums up. “Unpleasant ones.”

  “And hypnosis, brainwashing, basilisk hacks, conditioning… they’re all popular tricks for people with too much ambition and too little imagination.” Chris shrugs. “Basically, the hacks’ll try to basilisk hack you. Or hack your computer, but the AIs usually handle that. On both ends.”

  “But clumsy idiots with bad ideas, worse planning and cartoon-level tech?” Anton remarks, grinning. “Those are our specialty.”

  “Manipulation and trying to steal your ideas – always clear signs of—” Andrea begins.

  “Low-rent supervillains,” Anton finishes. “Just the worst. They can’t even be bad without boring you.”

  “You’ve stepped into a larger world,” Chris continues. “If sometimes a disappointing one.” He pauses. “Or is this the first time for you?” He watches me intently.

  I raise an eyebrow as the other three fall silent and stare at me. I shrug mentally. “Not quite.”

  Andrea raises an eyebrow in reply. “Care to elaborate?”

  “If you know my uncles, you know my family. I’m not sure there’s much more to say. I’ve already told you about Ghost and the Circle.”

  “Oh.” Anton nods. “Nothing from when you were younger, then.” He says it as a statement, but eyes me, almost as though he’s hoping I’ll correct him.

  “If anything like the last two weeks happened when I was twelve,” I snort, “I think I’d remember.”

  And just like that, they all look away.

  After a pause, Anton speaks. “Okay, then.” He clears his throat. “Well, if we come up with anything else to try, we’ll let you know.” He looks over at his cousins, and then back to me. “But so far, we’ve just got a couple more radical options, and we’d like to exhaust everything else before we try that kind of shock therapy.”“Not literal shock therapy,” Chris clarifies. “Just some heavy hitting stuff, but…” He spreads his hands. “We’ll bring it up if we’re out of options.” He looks uncomfortable.

  Suddenly, they’re tiptoeing on eggshells around me. I’ve noticed hints of it here and there, like when my past comes up. I find it worrying, but there’s no concealing the concern they seem to have for me, sometimes, like I’m some precious thing made of spun glass they thought they’d lost.

  I get that vibe even from Andrea, but especially from Anton.

  “If there’s something you need to tell me,” I begin.

  “Not yet,” Anton says firmly. “You’re not prepared to hear it. But we will.”

  “Not prepared?” I ask. “How bad is this?”

  He spreads his hands. “It’s something good, mostly. But I’ve tried before, and it… didn’t go well.”

  I raise an eyebrow. “I don’t remember that.”

  “Exactly.”

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