NASA scientists find evidence of a parallel universe running back in time

We age differently in space where the concept of time is fluid. Slower. The timeline is not flat, it curves...and the curve changes everything. Time dialation is warped. It's not real.
 
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iDon’tRead said:
Sounds like some of y’all been smoking too much during these stay at home orders
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What if they're not smoking enough?

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dcallamerican said:
Yep. Another thing I think about all THE time.

This video sums it up for me.

Replace "Talent" with "Luck/Outcome." Not too many dudes I grew up with have honest/legal/steady jobs right now and especially during these days.

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Just a note, this was a young Bey. She now knows of the ancestors that have had her plan in effect and then giving her protection before her birth. The spiritual community has always known of this dual universe, as what you are doing here, is also being done over there, working in unison. Those who understand transitioning, know of which I speak. I will not delve too deeply into this due to detractors on this site, but this all has been well known by those who have rejected the Abrahamic faiths long ago, then delving into ancestral beliefs. Even the Norse spoke of the 9 realms, of which was very much in effect.

out
 
I also feel like life is a competition amongst generations of families. Like all in constant competition. Ancestral beings trying to guide or strengthen their bloodlines
 
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tr1ll said:
www.cnet.com

No, NASA didn't find a parallel universe where time runs backward

Sorry, but the truth is: You're stuck with this universe for now.
www.cnet.com www.cnet.com

Welp..In the op, it did say the parallel universe theory wasn’t even really popular, it’s just nice to talk about..
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Yeah I talked to my Uncle and he said, “how are they able to explain something about parallel universe and they don’t know anything about this universe. We’re still discovering things everyday. In fact, scientist can’t even explain the black hole or/and what’s on the other side - let alone finding a ‘parallel universe’.” :lol:
 
Grine226 said:
Yeah I talked to my Uncle and he said, “how are they able to explain something about parallel universe and they don’t know anything about this universe. We’re still discovering things everyday. In fact, scientist can’t even explain the black hole or/and what’s on the other side - let alone finding a ‘parallel universe’.” :lol:
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Right. On top of that, half the stuff we think we know is probably wrong.
 
cosmiccoffee9 said:
haha there´s a man of culture.

2) more of a standard superhero ensemble X-Men thingy with the twist of a post Civil War II technocratic world basically owned by Not Jeff Bezos and a couple other trillionaires. ¨Jazz Jackpot¨ is the lucky lady.

pretty much my platform to speculate on what the world will look like in 25ish years.

I was putting one chapter a week out on SoMa, but fell behind a bit because things even in the present are changing way faster than what I expected and I really want to nail my vision of the superhuman future.

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¨Pendeja.¨ Yásmin´s scorching self-critique burned between her ears as she tested the panels of the gently humming box in a futile effort at escape.

Indifferently, the box gently lofted a few centimeters off the patchy floor of the forest clearing and dutifully headed in an unknown direction...short-term, her uncanny good fortune had taken a quick 5-minute break.

Usually she would have closely examined the perimeter the moment she felt the buzz, that familiar 9-volt tingle in her inner ear that told her an Internet access point was close by...today, not so much.

Obviously, by now access points were nearly ubiquitous--had been for about 20 years, you know that--but without an address to call home or much money to spend in Internet cafes, finals for connected classes at Mech Tech had merited a balance slanted more toward urgency than caution.

By the dim, slightly hazy interior lighting of her confinement, she was just able to make out the proud manufacturer claim of the Trapomatic Foldabox, which had by Year 203x become the accursed scourge of anyone who found themselves on the wrong side of the law: ¨25 YEARS UNBREAKABLE, GUARANTEED¨...apparently placed for the appreciation of its typically unwilling passenger.

They had been rolled onto the streets of the Eastern States of America just 6 years ago...not that many people would have noticed at sight, thanks to their cloaking technology...can´t have visible crime boxes flying around town, InspireTech was very clear about that on release day.

With a resigned sigh, Yásmin provided a customer review: ¨No mames.¨

She swore to herself she would never end up in a cage again--not after That--but here she was, after spending almost two years begging, gambling, and stealing her way from the detention complex outside New Guadalajara to the shadow of Chicago III, right back in some iron cube.

She allowed herself to have the thought that it was almost funny, in a cosmic sort of way...and it was only as she realized how strange a thought it was that she realized she was falling asleep...even as the world softly faded away, she instinctively clutched at the backpack that contained her entire life: a laptop, battery packs, and a few pouches of Rushers fruit snacks...one of the few luxuries she had become accustomed to over her short, difficult existence.

When she slammed into consciousness again with the terrifying realization her hands and feet were bound to the chair she was in, her first bewildered sweep of the stark concrete-walled space paused momentarily on the concerned countenance of Beverly Mae Walker: serious and guarded, but somehow matronly and reassuring.

The nascent good vibes quickly faded as she realized again that her hands and feet were bound to the chair she was in, and her stolen Cybercuff had in turn been taken from her.

It is at this point that Yásmín Xochitl Andrea Maria Fernanda Malinali de la Cruz unleashed a long stream of Spanish curses passed down from her mother, and her mother before her, and her mother before her...inciendiary invectives that she had only heard spoken, and several of which she only barely understood the meaning of.

Clueless to the content of the tirade, but understanding of its inspiration, Beverly patiently waited for an indefinite period for the diatribe to exhaust itself before she began.

¨You´re Yázmín, yes?
¨
Yázmín, short of breath from her furious oratory, responded with furious silence.

¨They let me come in here and talk to you, otherwise you´d be--¨

¨Right back where I was, stupid lady.¨ Yasmin spat.

Beverly´s patience endured. ¨You shouldn't be here, but I guess you already know that. The reason I´m talking to you instead of someone a little less chatty is that someone in this den of incompetence figured out you´re special...I want to help you.¨

Yázmín was unimpressed by her overture. ¨People like you never want to help me...you just want to use me for what you want.¨

Beverly´s icy professional countenance cracked at the very edge as she took a quick glimpse through the circumstances to see herself in the chair-bound little girl across the room. She paused, weighing her response before moving forward. ¨It often seems that way.¨

She took one, then another tentative step toward the girl as she spoke.

¨The point is that I´m here because I understand that you are a gifted young woman. I´ve been doing what I do a long time, where weren't many opportunities for girls like us when I was growing up.¨

The daggers Yázmín stared at Beverly blunted slightly at the tip. ¨What you know about me?¨

Sensing a sliver of rapport, Beverly gave Yázmín the gift of truth. ¨Only what they got from your laptop...you´re 16 and taking advanced engineering courses at The Global University for Modern Mechanical Technology. A girl like you doesn't need to be in the gutter.¨

Yázmín had heard that last line before, and her body tensed defensively. ¨What are you going to do with me?¨

Beverly took a deep lungful of the stale warehouse air and placed a very particular timbre in her voice as she made her next pronouncement ¨What I´m going to do is take a risk with you right now, because I honestly believe our best futures run together.¨

A vague glimmer of recognition sparked into Yázmín´s mind as Beverly spoke. Obviously she had never seen this woman before in life--how could she have, not knowing a single living soul within 1,000 kilometers, but she was almost certain she had heard that voice before somewhere.

The stately silver-haired woman scanned the trapped teenager´s face, and their eyes locked. Something intangible was exchanged, and from this grew the confidence she needed to commit to something ever so slightly insane.

¨My name is Beverly, but you just might know me better as Lady Liberty...I´d like you to be a part of something special.¨

Beverly, now revealed as the legendary superheroine known the world over as Lady Liberty, must have looked quite strange in the role of captor to Yásmín, who had once owned a publicity poster of her complete with a rendering of her signature in her (literally) patented shade of electric teal.

Her mind struggled to wrap itself around this new reality, where she had survived the greatest evils she had ever known only to end up at the mercy of someone who she once considered a role model. Her worldview was only further thrown into chaos as Beverly continued her gradual approach to the stifling seat which held her fast, producing a small remote control device from her pocket and unlocking the restraints at the swipe of a finger.

Yásmín rubbed her newly freed wrists, as is tradition.

¨I´ve managed to convince The Unit that you could have a place in our tech support department.¨ Beverly elaborated. ¨Your potential is incredible, but in my viewyou never had a chance...I know a little something about that.¨

¨There are a couple of people I´d like you to meet.¨

The bunker doors hissed softly as they split in two, retracting into the frame to reveal a large circular conference room covered in all but one section with panels displaying various scenes apparently taken from all over the planet. The solid section, directly across from the portway, appeared to her to be some kind of blackboard, the scribbles and scrawls densely dotting its massive surface giving off a mild luminescence.

In the center of the room was a massive table, currently populated by two other individuals.

One wore the classic costume of the military, bedecked lavishly with pins and pendants. Sitting at the head of the table pensively stroking his beard as he took account of Yásmín in person for the first time, he was pretty clearly the shift manager at the very least. He also gave off something of a strange sheen, the characteristic appearance of holoprojection.

A chair away sat an unusually solid-looking older gentleman with a granite jaw that could only be truly appreciated in the flesh, hair streaked at the sides with silver with a peppery crown.

His deep blue uniform was interrupted only sparingly with blood red accents, and punctuated at the chest the embossed silhouette of an eagle. One steely blue eye regarded Yásmín warily as she walked into the room, but the faintest hint of a smile struggled free as he lay eyes on Beverly, who escorted her to a seat at the table.

Military Man spoke first. ¨I want you to know that your presence here is an extreme breach of protocol, but your new friend Lady Liberty was willing to put her reputation at stake for you.¨

Next was Salt-n-Pepper´s contribution: ¨I don´t understand what she´s doing here.¨

Beverly had heard enough of his critiques by now: ¨Well, for one unlike you she can open her own email.¨

She earned a carcinogenic glare for the quip.

The badges and buttons rose from their seat at the head of the table and walked around to where Yásmín was seated. She shrunk in her chair, uneasy and frankly helpless.

Upon reaching her seat, the military man extended his right fist, and firmly pounded his own chest, causing the hologram to quickly flicker as it touched itself. An authoritative voice burst forth from hidden speakers as the luminous face spoke.

¨Well, if it isn´t our lucky ducky. I am General Irving Reese, and this is my Unit...at least, part of it.¨

got 6 so far, it´s a way better use of my time than any job I have ever had.
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cool read, any planes of finishing this anytime soon.
 
freeze said:
The One.

I suggest everyone watches that film

And also watch Rick and Morty.

Multiverse ftw.

Would def be curious to see parallel universe self.

If I body him, do I get his energy like Highlander...or does the universe fold on itself when I touch him and we all die because same matter can't occupy the same space?
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Couple more good ones...

Another Earth


TV Series "Counterpart"
 
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marikomorose said:
cool read, any planes of finishing this anytime soon.
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got 5 chapters in the chamber so far, so **** it ima post 2 and 3 here since you asked.

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The phrase hung in the air as such sentences often do.

The granite-jawed superpatriot broke the silence by offering his personal perspective: ¨You mean you´re not yanking my **** here? Reese, with all due respect you´ve finally lost it.¨

General Reese had long ago learned to employ a nasal sigh as a release valve for the pressure that built in his head whenever Biff got good and cranked up. Some people have a gift for agitation that transcends technology.

And so, the attack continued. ¨I´ve been part of some real doorknob-****er monkeyshines as part of these armed forces, but bringing in some scrawny kid from the other side of the Wall to clean up around here at the risk of national security has to take the god damned cake.¨

A familiar voice of moderation impended. ¨Biff…¨

¨Don´t ¨Biff¨ me, Lady...the codename is Sentinel, and we are supposed to use them at all times. Jesus crab-walking Christ, what kind of moron are you?¨

General Reese had seen this unfold too many times. ¨SENTINEL! Stand down, that´s an order.¨
¨How the hell does a fella stand down, anyway? You´re either standing up or sitting--¨

¨Captain Stryker!¨

Sensing the seriousness of the general´s tone even through the holoprojector, Biff relented slightly. ¨What? Listen, I don´t trust her.¨

Yázmín, the subject of this evaluation, interjected: ¨I am standing right here.¨

¨Good, then I don´t have to repeat myself.¨ As he crossed his arms petulantly over his eagle-bearing chest, the matte finish of his right forearm became apparent to the newcomer for the first time.

¨They made this donkey into a cyborg?¨, Yázmín did not say out loud.

General Reese presided over the conversation once more. ¨Sorry, Biff here takes pride in being an artifact of a dumber time for some reason. The fact is that we´ve been looking to automate this Superman business like everything else. We´re trying to build a bridge from human beings fighting our battles to having robots do the dirty work, and Lady Liberty here thinks that you are that bridge.

¨You have some engineering and coding skills, right?¨

Thinking back to the drone she once built (and was punished for) in the detention camp with nothing but discarded electronics and eating utensils out of sheer boredom, she calculated a reply: ¨Si, un poquito.¨
¨...and we know you speak English too, so you can drop that act while you´re at it.¨ Biff contributed.
General Reese bristled a bit at both the interruption and xenophobia. ¨Cool it, Stryker...I can handle this part of the presentation.¨

¨Lady Liberty thinks it´s a good idea to bring you in as a tech, work under Dr. Polaris...you have some interesting ideas for alternate propulsion systems, we´d like to have your mind on our side.¨

¨...and if I say you no?¨

¨We ship you on the first bullet train back to Big Texas,¨ Biff growled. Beverly´s frown at his lack of tact echoed around the room.

General Reese slipped momentarily into a regretful tone: ¨If you´re not interested in participating in the Program, I can´t make you...but there´s nothing else we can do for you here but send you back across the border. That´s protocol.¨

Yázmín´s face crumpled visibly as she recognized a familiar position: ¨Then what choice do I have?¨
¨Spoken like a true soldier.¨ smirked Biff.

Yázmín made a silent note to herself to make his life harder in the near future.

The image of General Reese turned to face something behind him in his own location, and he began to boom out orders to subordinates unseen: ¨Assemble Polaris, Kidd Color, and The Dynamik...and get Mr. F on the line, PDQ.¨

*********

From the personal office suite on the 103rd floor of his tower overlooking the skyline of New York City, it was easy for Arlen Fortuitous to feel as though he had reached the pinnacle of human achievement.

After all, he had personally overseen mankind´s first missions to Mars, where about 2 decades ago he had begun to establish the first habitable colonies on the Red Planet. What then was a small outpost of scientists and technicians that could be charitably compared to the spartan confines of a weather station in Antarctic Argentina was now a thriving colony of planetary pilgrims and a few of their interminably bored young children.

He admired it as the firstborn child it was to him, basking in the glow of the Sun thanks to standing on the shoulders of history´s giants.

His pondering of his own lofty position in the future he had a hand in building was interrupted by the urgent barge of a nameless employee, sweating profusely as if he had run the original 42 kilometers between Marathon and Greece. ¨Mr. F!¨, the underling panted, prostrate.

With a casual flick of the wrist, he swiped the three-dimensional holodisplay of the colony back into its projector at the center of his desk, and with a broad smile turned in his chair away from his wall of awards, certificates, and gilded statues to issue a perfunctory greeting.

¨My friend! What brings you to my humble office today?¨

¨There´s--*pant*--there´s word from Indiana!¨

¨Indiana?!¨ Fortuitous straightened excitedly in his chair in acknowledgment of the location´s potential significance. He snapped his fingers, and a tiny drone whirred to life from the water cooler in the corner, delivering a brushed aluminum cup filled with cool water to the thirsty messenger. ¨Calm yourself, you´ll catch your death of exhaustion!¨

The intern gratefully seized the cup, and drank deeply from it.

¨Take your time.¨

Gulp after gulp cascaded down his parched throat, it was the first time he had been away from his desk all day...there were stringent penalties for not meeting company production quotas.

Fortuitous grew palpably annoyed at the short delay. ¨Now you´re taking my time, son.¨

The intern nearly choked. ¨Sorry sir!¨

¨My father was ´sir´...you, my treasured friend, may call me Mr. F.¨

¨Yes Mr. F, sorry Mr. F. Mr. F, there´s something out of the Gary base...a new special, potentially the most powerful yet!¨

The intrigued magnate leaned back in his chair, tenting his fingers as he explored the possibilities in his head. ¨This seems to be…¨

The freshly quenched intern´s eyes widened expectantly, piqued in Pavlovian fashion at the prospect of a mere office drone getting to hear The Catchphrase from its creator.

The speaker´s practiced social eye noticed this, and delayed the payoff a beat to maximize the anticipation, whipping an electronic cigar from the breast pocket of his bullet-resistant suit jacket and taking a lavish, demonstrative puff. . ¨...a most Fortuitous development.®¨

The words curled toward the 5-meter ceiling of the office on wisps of strawberry-mint vapor, and it was all the intern could do not to fling his folders in the air and squeal with delight.

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It was always a good day to be The Dynamik--just ask the guy--but a CyberCuff message from Mr. F meant this one would be special.

He rolled over onto an elbow to see why the world needed his Talents today, passing a palm over its screen to activate it and staring blinkingly though half-conscious eyes to check its contents. The brushed aluminum device chirped an appreciative-sounding tone as its screen came to life, displaying a familiar satellite image along with bold text: IMMEDIATE ATTENTION REQUIRED.

His eyes widened as he processed the message, his lips curling into a titillated grin.

He was not alone in his assessment, as his previous evening´s conquest was certainly familiar with its´ significance as well, stirring into the waking world as he indifferently disturbed her resting place. ¨O-M-G is that what it really sounds like?¨ she gushed excitedly, immediately alert.

Aiden Alexander flashed the smile that appeared on children´s collector cups around the world in his working persona, savoring the knowledge that this woman would never forget her experience while he would soon forget her existence. ¨You know the answer to that.¨

¨So I gotta go, yeah?¨

By this time Aiden had completely checked out of the connection, sitting up, turning his back, and placing both feet on the floor. ¨You gotta go, yeah.¨

¨Can I get a selfie before I go?¨

He stood in a single motion and lofted toward the closet in the corner, where his work uniform hung. ¨Sure, 50 euros.¨, he tossed indifferently over his shoulder.

¨But I spent all my cash at La Vache last night! ¨

Her appeals fell on deaf ears. Last night´s unbelievably romantic suitor was gone...now there was only The Dynamik.

¨Sounds like a personal problem.¨ Aiden landed outside the closet door after the short flight, opening it to reveal a collection of identical formfitting cream white jumpsuits with royal blue trim, splotched liberally with sponsor logos. ¨Lexxi, see my guest to the lobby...oh yeah, and give her CyberCuff back, willya?¨

Aiden´s loyal companion droid whirred to responsiveness from where it lay on its back after having performed the ancient Child´s Pose on the ceiling hours earlier and falling there, discarded, after being deactivated post-use. Its pupil-less eyes glowed a soft blue as it underwent a short booting process, then it rose unnaturally into a standing position.

¨Good morning Aiden.¨, Lexxi spoke in a soothing, dutiful voice.

The droid analyzed his sojourning houseguest, remembering her personal information from the night before. ¨Hello Christie. Please take your CyberCuff.¨ It smiled pleasantly as a hidden compartment slid open in the torso of the droid, where Christie´s communicator had been secured under Aiden´s request...you can never be too careful as a celebrity.

In the interim, the 19-year-old boy that awoke that morning in his king-size bed had made the transformation into something above man...if not a god, a very convincing facsimile.

¨You´re just going to leave me like this?!¨, Christie protested as she secured her device to her wrist, somehow not expecting this outcome.

¨Yep. Duty calls.¨ He pulled the top of the uniform over one broad shoulder, then the other, zipping the garment from just below the beltline to the top of the neck. It was all he could do not to completely ignore her...there were more important matters at hand, not that clearing out his DVR that morning would not have also qualified.

¨Why don't you call yourself a Morning After Taxi, those are free for girls like you.¨, he suggested helpfully.

¨Girls like me??¨

He picked up a can of HAMMER aerosol deodorant from its place on the dresser--discontinued for a decade, but still available for the right price or person--and applied it liberally to himself as he elucidated his perspective.

¨Drunk backpacker chicks who go halfway around the world to bang it out with random dudes...or did you not come up to me at La Vache last night looking for The D?¨

Christie could not argue with the timeline, blushing deeply as she recalled her indescretion, but protested his contention on a factual basis: ¨MAT service is free for everybody!¨

¨Yeah, but only girls like you use it.¨, he opined, pausing for a moment while floating past the mirror to check his top knot and stubble level. He looked great...he always did.

Her face curdled as he doubled down on the misogynist slight. ¨I cannot believe this, you are such an a--¨

She never got to finish her anatomical assessment as Aiden rocketed out of the broad plate glass window with a crash, sending glass shards like confetti into the streets below as his crimson aura streaked across the afternoon sky.

¨Always good to make an exit.¨, he smirked to himself as the wind rushed deafeningly past his ears in flight. He lived for this ****.

In an instant, the Eiffel Tower that was within the vista of the hotel suite he called his European home surged into proximity and then was kilometers behind as The Dynamik soared over the EU border and accelerated over the Atlantic toward his appointment in the Eastern States...it would be almost an hour´s flight.

Back in the shattered window frame, Christie watched her ex-date´s fluttering golden half-cape speed into the distance, helpless to correct his churlishness.

Lexxi moved over to the naked, crestfallen girl and laid a reassuring silicone hand on her shoulder, showing the carefully calibrated concern she had been so meticulously programmed to exude at such times. ¨You seem upset. Can I walk you downstairs?¨

Christie sighed a sigh she´d sighed many times before as she reached for an undergarment. ¨I guess someone should.¨

*********
Back in Indiana, Yasmín was feeling significantly less lucky than usual.

Here she was, locked in some Official Place AGAIN, under the command of colonizers AGAIN, out of good choices YET AGAIN.

It had become a familiar pattern for her over her first almost-16 years, ever since she escaped from the domain of the NeoVatican in what was Central Mexico before the North American Wars which had drawn new lines all over the continent from the impoverished Nation of Quebec in the far north to the Grand Argentinean Republic in the south, who had been able to not only consolidate the entire lower half of South America but had made several enforceable claims to the South Pole in the process.

Point being, the young lady was a long way from home.

Her mood soured further as she saw those who had been summoned by the military man just a few minutes prior. A studious looking man with a wiry frame and equally unremarkable lab coat made his appearance, and evaluated her curiously as he took a silent seat at the table.

This did not inspire hope in the young captive given her previous experiences.

Just as Yazmín had resigned herself to a less-than-enjoyable near future, a hint of the familiar stepped into the conference room. ¨¿Qué onda?¨ greeted the friendly newcomer with skin of bronze and hair of wool.

His deep grey uniform had a matte finish, hypnotically contrast with accenting patterns that flowed vibrantly with constantly changing shades. He wore a mask which appeared as a kalaidoscope of gentle light covering the lower half of his face, and long locs extended over his shoulder to an unknown terminus.

A golden eye emblem gleamed from the center of his forehead, and a crossed-paintbrush crest adorned the left chest of his jumpsuit....the principles of costuming informed young Yazmín that this was in all likelihood Kidd Color.

Feeling her comfort level increase, she moderated it by reminding herself that she was not free to leave. ¨Okey someone please explain me what happen aqui.¨, she inquired at last.

The apparent scientist offered an explanation. ¨I wanted to personally meet the extraordinary individual who defeated my security system. I thought I accounted for everything down to the last detail! Randomly electrified low-vis area denial gate, fully cloaked Trapomatic Lockboxes, a self-contained Internet connection completely off the grid...even if someone knew we were here, they would have never gotten so close to our facility! How did you manage it, I have to know!¨

¨No sé. Lucky, I guess.¨

Sentinel did not delay in expressing his skepticism. ¨Nobody´s that lucky, kid... people try to find this place all the time after reading some crap on the Internet, most people to try end up dead or in jail. ¨

¨No soy encarcelada?¨
Sentinel frowned at the prospect of translating a foreign language in what was left of his homeland. ¨Listen, this ain´t Big Texas....when you speak to me in an official capacity, you will speak American, comprende?¨

Yazmín had heard this type of talk before, and knew how to quell it quickest. ¨Whatever you say, boss.¨

¨Great...so why don´t you finish explaining to Doc Polaris here just how in the blue hell you got onto an active military base? Because if it´s the wrong answer, you´ll be right back with all the bad hombres in New Guadalajara so fast it´ll make your little sombrero spin.¨

Yazmín had learned to spot an actionable threat when she heard one, and so she stingily dispensed a bit of the truth: ¨I just come here looking for WiFi.¨

¨Oh yeah? And how do you explain the fact that we spent 53 billion ESD making our encrypted connection point harder to find than a swordfish with ****?¨

¨Se parece you got ripped off, boss man.¨

Biff´s face contorted into a death mask of pure anger. ¨Why you little sh--¨

¨Sentinel!¨, the man of science interjected. ¨Must we always walk the most combative path into each situation?¨

Dr. Polaris turned to Yazmín in her seat. ¨It is true that our presence here has proven difficult to impossible to detect, even for state-level actors. It seems extraordinarily unlikely that someone would just stumble on it by chance.¨

¨It damn sure does.¨, Sentinel amended. I don't like this deal not one little bit, I say we turn her over to Planetary Vigilance and they find out what makes her tick the ´scientific way.´¨ displaying air quotes to make the implication clear.

Polaris recoiled at the very idea. ¨That is not science, that is barbarism...and, I might add, the very initiatives the nation of which you are so proud fought to stamp out nearly a century ago.¨

He turned to the girl again, this time bringing his full focus to the exchange.

¨We know your story...the caravan north, the escape from the detention camp, the passion for engineering...I´ve taken a look at your files, some of your concepts are truly inspired. I want to help you find a better life than you´ve had, but the only way we can do anything is if you tell us how you found this place. I personally do not believe your intent to be ill, but I have not been entrusted to draw the distinction.¨

Sentinel, in typical form, marked his territory in the discussion.

¨That's right, sweetheart...that's my call and mine alone. Reese can send his little laser light show here if he wants, but DC is a ways out of town...here in the field, the buck stops with me. Don't let Liberty and the coddle crew tell you you're special...a little paperwork and I can send you out of here easier than an email. So make with a damn good explanation for your existence, or...¨ Biff´s words trailed off ominously, leaving her mind to fill in the blanks.

Yazmín, feeling truly backed into a corner, looked to the one somewhat friendly face in the room for guidance, that of the former childhood hero she now knew as Beverly Mae Walker. For some reason she couldn't identify, she felt inclined to trust the human being she had once only known by mask and costume with her life...a complete lack of other options probably had something to do with it. The legendary heroine nodded, encouraging the girl.

¨Lo que sea¨, she sighed to herself. ¨Your WiFi, I can sensate it, por dentro. I feel it in my body, I always have.¨

Biff snorted, incredulous, before bursting out with coarse laughter. ¨Of all the cockamamie bull**** I've heard, that´s a new one on me. You really expect me to believe--¨

A baritone voice came from beneath the coils of hair and golden third-eye marking seated at the far end of the table. Jamil Ali, (reluctantly) known to the public as Kidd Color, entered the chat. ¨I believe her.¨

Sentinel felt an unusual mix of intrigue and disdain. ¨And just what inside intel do you have on this individual, junior?¨

¨Ay dude, I told you a thousand times not to call me ´junior´, I ain't your damn son. Don't let the nom de guerre get you sidetracked, I'm a grown *** man.¨

¨Oh! Okay! A ´grown *** man,´ are ya, KIDD? I´ll remind you that you weren't that much older than her when you came in here and I´ve been commanding better men than you since you were running around in overalls playing with your little paintbrush.¨

Jamil bristled with anger.

Fortunately, Beverly´s cooler head impended. ¨Damn it, Biff...don´t you ever get enough of being a jackass? Why can´t you just ask a normal question like a normal person?¨

¨He´s never been a normal person.¨, Jamil answered.

¨...and damn proud of it!¨ Sentinel countered, raising his cybernetic arm and punctuating his sentence with a few full rotations of the wrist, its servomotor whining mechanically as it twirled.

¨While you found time to be an *** as usual, you also managed to make my point. There are people in this world that walk over hot coals, conduct electricity...heard of some weirdos out there who eat metal and don´t die. They even gave your dumb *** that stupid robot arm for some reason…and somebody being sensitive to something that´s in almost literally every room on the planet is unbelievable to you?¨

Sentinel´s spinning fist slowed to a stop as he quietly conceded the point to an appreciative audience.

Vindicated, Jamil spoke on. ¨Okay then. So why shouldn't we believe her? As Talents go, that´s a pretty minor one.¨

¨Si, exacto. Just a little trick, no problem.¨, Yazmín assuaged.

¨Okay, okay, okay!¨, huffed the patriot. ¨So let's say this little Texican girl can magically feel the Internet in her little Texican heart...fine. How did she avoid the eleventeen other countermeasures Doc Genius over here put in? I saw the damn thing being tested, half the dummies got so FUBAR they could only be used once. This scrawny little nothing did what elite international operatives could not. You'd have to have a whole horseshoe hammered half a mile up your *** to be that goddamn lucky!¨

He turned his diagnostics to Dr. Polaris next: ¨Lookit, the way I see it either the girl is a witch or you´re not as smart as you think you are...which is it, egghead?¨

Dr. Polaris removed his spectacles from his nose, and gave them a quick polish as he attempted to make things clearer to the obstinate team leader. ¨As any good scientist knows, it could be either...or both.¨

Yazmín turned her smile inward, happy to hear that the odds were in her favor after all...if he had any idea.

thanks for the spark man, I really needed to dive back into this...learned SO MUCH in the past month.
 
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