3.10

“Of course I’ve considered leaving the city. If I sell the house, get rid of my belongings… I’m sure my wife left behind some of her jewelry. It’s likely I’d be able to gather more than enough to visit the Transport Station. Hell, if I was feeling bold, I’d summon one of the greater demons and scale the blast walls, try and brave the wild, avoid… whatever’s left out there.

I’m not going to do that. My daughter lived here. My daughter died here.

I will do the same.”

— Vincent Hall, Encoded Notebook; Section 2, page 41

Think about it. The advice Chloe gives me before we tuck in for the night is vague, to say the least.

I’ve never played at a venue, before. At home, music was usually an annoyance. I’d try and play it at midday, on the weekends, any time when my parents were out of the house and the neighbors were least likely to be home. It never really registered as something I could… perform.

Not my main concern, regardless. Music as a cover for treating patients?

It feels like there should be some reason it doesn’t work. After rolling out of bed the next morning and grumbling something resembling a greeting at Chloe’s shambling form, I shoot Ava a probing text. She’d probably know better than me.

I take the time to grab breakfast from Chloe’s mini-fridge and stumble out onto a nearby roof to try and wake myself up.

I’ll let Ava handle it, I decide. She’s smart. For now, I’ll focus on myself.

Speaking of which, I try to recall the mental notes I’d posted last time I tried to use my power while moving.

It hadn’t been going very well. The limitation seemed like something fundamental — my power’s efficiency got a boost after the incident at the USMC headquarters, but its flexibility remains the same.

I still don’t know why that happened, or else I would try and make it happen again.

As frustrating as it is to admit, it seems like I’ve hit a wall.

I huff into the cold morning air, tearing into a half-frozen breakfast sandwich while I watch the sun crest over the looming skyscrapers off in the distance.

Maybe I need another approach. I activate my power, descending into the familiar red trance, but instead of making any active changes, I just… watch.

I move my attention towards my brain and take the time to observe.

I have no idea how powers work. Obviously. I don’t think anyone really gets it, in spite of the rambling posts you sometimes come across on some of the local forums.

Still. There has to be at least some grounding in reality, right?

No, of course not. Supers are by definition, supernatural. We have no idea how they work.

Something still bugs me, though, analyzing the streams of electrical impulses firing through my gray matter.

Since I’m perceiving my power at all, especially as additional medical information injected directly into my skull, there has to be a change in brain chemistry, or electrical signals somewhere.

Maybe I’ve been going about this the wrong way. Obviously, using my power takes up too much brain capacity to use it and try to perform motor functions at the same time. What if instead of trying to reduce my power’s usage, I increase my brain’s capacity?

There’s a thought. I drop my power and take another bite of my sandwich, flopping down onto the concrete roof.

It’d have to be something simple — I don’t need or want to replicate the entire structure, I just need something to handle the information while I take care of more important things, like dodging bullets.

I sink back into my power, and experimentally, I try to extend out a portion near the end of the brain.

I stop. My power tells me it’s not workable. Usually, this wouldn’t be much of an issue, I’ve brute-forced things before, but this time I’m more hesitant. If I fuck something up here, it’s basically over. I might not even have the capacity to reverse it.

Is it because the change is being made actively? Changing my brain using my brain sounds a little recursive. Maybe it’d break down halfway through the process.

So instead, how about I create the structure alongside my existing brain. A mesh, like that kid’s power made around my brain, with enough simple structures to store information but not complex enough to interfere with usual functioning. I’ll keep it separate for now, and only connect everything at the end, when it’s finished.

I tentatively start on the design, taking care to insulate the structure against my existing neural pathways, and following my power’s direction religiously to make sure there aren’t any extreme failings.

It ends up larger than the kid’s neural lattice, and a little thicker, but prodding the connection I prepared at the base of the brain stem tells me it should… function.

The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

I don’t connect it yet. Instead, I finish my sandwich and wander back into Chloe’s shack.

“Didja think about it?” She asks, not looking up from her workbench.

“Sort of. I don’t mind, but I want Ava to sign off on it.”

I can’t see her face from here, but I can tell she’s rolling her eyes. “Don’t be a square, Claire. It’ll be fun!”

I wave her off. “Still need to find a place, and some extra players.”

“I’m sure you’ll figure it out. I got a couple spots in mind, anyway.”

I sigh, and check the burner. Ava’s sent a vague text about meeting up in person, along with the address for another patient. She’s suggested waiting until some time tomorrow.

Well. No time like the present.

“I’m gonna fuck with my brain. If I die, you can keep the suit,” I tell Chloe, and get only a distracted ‘mhm’ in response.

I plant myself down onto the couch, somewhere I’m sure I won’t fall over and crack my skull open if I pass out.

I sink. The neural lattice still isn’t finished, even after the basic structure is completed. Really, it’s just a mass of unspecialized neural mass pasted along the inside of my skull, meant to operate more like backup storage than a brain.

If I hook it up to my noodle now, it’ll probably just disrupt a whole bunch of electrical signals and leave me brain dead.

I need a gate. Something to decide what information should be passed back and forth between my actual brain and the offloading structure.

Looking closer, there’s a conveniently high amount of activity near the… I think it was called the Parietal Lobe?

Skimming textbook excerpts on educational forums during my stint at the USMC isn’t usually the recommended start for neuroscience, I’m sure, but I work with what I have.

Realistically, If I attach the neural lattice there, or even replace a small section where the signal originates from, It’d process through the lattice instead. Then, I think I can add a gate at another point in the lattice, so I can access the information my power provides whenever I need to.

Maybe a smaller muscle fiber, or something?

I don’t really have a notebook on hand to sketch anything out in, but the structure I’m trying to make isn’t that big. I make a couple iterations inside my head, just as a proof-of-concept.

It… seems to work. My power isn’t throwing any errors yet, especially after the fourth iteration.

It isn’t even throwing any errors when I feign connecting it to my brain, just to check the validity.

I don’t know if that means it’ll work the way I want it to, or not. I have no idea whether my power considers permanent changes to my personality, or brain chemistry as harmful, or functional.

For a moment, I consider putting it off.

But — I’d put it off, and then do what? Sit around some more? Drop by a convenience store, or something?

I need to be doing something.

It’ll probably be fine. Worst-case scenario, I can reverse it easily enough.

I deconstruct the previous iterations of my gate mechanism, and hook it up to the neural lattice. It fits fine, and the gate itself functions.

Only one thing left to do. I can’t relocate my power’s signal to the lattice until it’s connected to my brain, so.

I don’t sit around and wait for the fear to set in. I focus my attention, burning some extra fat to speed up the process, and —

—

A twisting, spiralling tower brushes against the sky, mottled and glistening a sickening red sheen. Its roots creep along the shattered rock and dust, gracing the surrounding land with its gentle touch.

The tower rises, stretches, reaching for something higher than the blackened clouds.

It opens its eyes, and —

—

There’s a ringing, in my ears — no, not in my ears, sound pierces through my skull just fine but in the background a distinct screech accompanies me as I swim through blurry vision and lacking motor skills.

I — I think I have a headache.

Not good. Do we even have ibuprofen around here?

“…laire. Claire! Hey, bitch, are you good?”

Chloe makes her presence known with a non-lethal, but still fairly violent, slap against my cheek.

I groan. “What’s your damage…?”

“You are not gonna talk to me about damage, miss. Had steam comin’ out your ears,” she mutters.

“That’s a fun metaphor,” I reply idly.

She snorts. “Not a metaphor. Literally like, huge puffs of steam — look, it’s still all foggy around here.”

I glance at the ceiling, and sure enough, the shack seems to have been layered in a quickly-dissipating white cloudy film.

I pull myself upright. Steam? I burned a little extra fat to speed up the change, so I guess that might be it. I pushed the speed a little, so maybe it only appears when I’m making changes in a rush —

A snap, Chloe’s fingers in my face — I jerk back, startled.

“Back with us?” She asks, expression twisted towards concern.

Zoning out? That’s not good. Did something go wrong with the procedure? My power told me everything checks out, but that doesn’t necessarily mean there aren’t side effects…

Chloe’s still looking at me. I try to pull myself together.

“I’m — I’m fine. I think.”

She frowns. “I dunno much about the stuff you do with your powers, but I’m beginning to think you did something stupid.”

“It’s fine,” I brush her off, reaching for the burner phone I left laying around nearby.

I click it on. “Ava says to tell you that you’re sick in the head. And also to ask if you know any good spots.”

Chloe rolls her eyes. “Nice little bar over at 12C. Tell her I’ll handle it.” Her gaze refocuses. “You gonna be alright for it? Was thinking we’d do it in a few days, but if you’re —“

“No,” I interrupt. “No, I’m fine.”

She doesn’t look convinced, but… “Okay. I’ll hold you to it.”

I let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding. “…Thanks.”

“Go fix whatever you did to your noggin,” she mutters, waving me off. “I’ll go tell our hosts when we’re coming.”

I nod, and let myself drop back onto the couch.

—

Nothing appears to be wrong with my modifications, when I check them over with my power. In fact, the activity in the neural lattice seems to be at standard.

And it’s not like I don’t notice the difference. It’s slow, and a little stiff, but as I sink deep in my analysis, I find I’m finally able to pull my limbs into some semblance of motion.

The zoning out still worries me.

I try to ignore it. I’ll need to get some rest for Chloe’s little concert.