Behold! For she is The Solar Flare! While casing her next robbery job, Jenny Johnson is called to by a pair of magical rings and is swept away to an alternate universe! Here she meets Sonny, a sentient aardvark who teaches her the power of Gerlock, the source of her power! Aided on her journey of discovery by Samson, The Eternal Robot, Jenny will unite The Two Worlds and save The Universe!
-From The Unauthorized Story of Solar Flare
The top people of the ICG, the board of directors, account for 90% controlling interest in the government. With the remaining shares going to the almost five billion-plus population, this meant that everyday citizens held fractions of a single share at best. A number so low not even worth counting, moving up as a typical worker citizen was absurdly tricky and required—what else?—lots and lots of capital. Most people earned money via their work, and ICG-approved jobs saw workers there earn 2% more shares than their fellow man with options to increase that number via end-of-the-year performance reviews.
The list of approved jobs included: police and military, accounting, stock trading, insurance, finance, PR, and colonization. All of them are considered essential and thus are taught to the youth citizenry from years 7-18. All children are required to take placement exams to put them in one of these fields. Those that failed out joined the “normal” private sector, which meant you could only earn a standard share with enough time put in (typically decades). These were jobs such as manual labor, retail, waste management, and the like.
Once a year, the ICG board meets to discuss profit forecasts and labor statistics that all shareholders in good standing must attend virtually. Typically, it involved a big show—the ‘rah-rah we rule, everything rules’ kind of show—and manipulation of numbers to say just whatever the hell they wanted them to say. Ultimately, the economy was one big grift; as long as people believed what they were selling, everything was fine. Shaw excelled at this part, the talking, the speech giving, the lying. It turned him on how good he was at it. Seeing that look on some loser’s face as they buy into the word soup he conjured up was the cleanest, best pleasure.
All members of the board meeting together were pretty much rare aside from that annual meeting, so the fact they were all summoned to gather together today at all alone spoke volumes about the why—the Plague. It had finally gotten too close for comfort for the people in this room. Jackson and Jaime Shaw represented their conglomerate; John Gibson was present for his. Also in attendance was Corina Kyle—Lady Steel—along with her recently returned older brother, Mike Masterson—Captain Steel.
Corina was in her civvies, a button-down dress shirt, cardigan, and slacks; Cap was still wearing his uniform. He carried the swagger and the body language to pull off such a display that it hardly registered. The conference room was on the 65th floor of Central One and at the center was an oval glass table suspended in the air via golden legs that splayed out like tentacles.
Cap opted to continue standing while watching the presentation. On the screen, according to the dossiers in front of each of them, was Dr. Shuri Lofano. Dr. Lofano was a quantum epidemiologist, one of the many new fields birthed by the discovery of The Bleed and its viscous liquid-like properties.
“We can’t say with certainty what caused it just yet,” The Doctor had said. “But we can confirm that it is currently transmitted via droplets in the air.”
“Do you know the incubation period? What’s the timeline for this thing? There’s so much bad info out there,” Corina said.
“The media is terrible, terrible.” Shaw chimed in. Corina shifted uncomfortably in her seat. The man looked like a living ghoul and made her uncomfortable. The doctor cleared his throat on the other side of the call.
“Yes, it appears that those infected carry it for at least seven days and are infectious for that entire time. The disease affects your cells, causing apoptosis—which is normal—but these bouts of cellular death are somehow causing respiratory and flu-like symptoms.”
“And it only affects OHs?” Gibson asked.
“So far, yes.”
“And that’s it?” Cap asked.
“Excuse me?” Dr. Lofano croaked.
“They just get sick, and that’s it? No one is dying so far?”
“Uh-no, not so far. Impossible to know what the long-term effects are or could be, but it’s not deadly.”
“Well, that’s good, isn’t it?” Jaimie Shaw spoke up. She had a small smile and looked perfectly relaxed.
“Yes, and so is it only affecting our OH population,” Shaw mused. “2 million is less than the billions, right?” Corina stared daggers at the man once the words escaped his lips. The fact a bigot held so much power made her sick, yet for all her strength, she often felt small in the face of it. Corina feared feeding into the propaganda that paints people like her as aggressive bombs just waiting to go off. Fighting against, instead of with, the systemic powers felt like it’d only add more fuel to it, so she often refrained. As a symbol, she often felt trapped, forced only to consider harm reduction before anything else.
“If it truly only affects us,” Cap said directly to her and Shaw. He hadn’t moved from his spot, and his arms were still crossed. His voice had a steady cadence that grabbed everyone’s attention. “Then we should bring this to the people. Encourage mask use and distancing; get the rhetoric under control before our people get hurt.”
“I agree,” Corina nodded.
“But talking will only do so much,” Cap said. It felt like he was talking only to her. “I suggest an ordinance, personally.”
“Excuse me, but I have to ask: why?” Shaw asked. “We just heard it's not that bad, not that bad at all. No need to scare anyone and cause the markets to react poorly, right? I think we’re doing just fine currently. People can wear masks if they want to, and, y’know, they do.”
“I don’t think we want more people sick?” Corina said. “Dr. Lofano said they don’t know the long-term effects. There’s only 2 million of us, but that’s still a lot of people, Shaw.”
“Sure, sure, but I don’t worry about what if’s and maybe’s. Right now, we’re doing great, and I imagine we’ll continue to do great. We’ve got the best people, and we’ve got you now, Captain! The OHs love me, but not like they love you. Tell you what, you want to encourage mask use? It honestly should come from you, so go right ahead. But I don’t want people scared, you understand. Stress that it’s only for precaution, that it's optional, and that it's not that bad. Just a little cold, right? Explain to your fellow OH that, by masking, they’re doing their part.”
“You want me putting the onus on us, is that it?” Cap still hadn’t moved; his head barely shifted. Corina felt unease at the back of her throat. It killed her to think that both had solid points. Shaw was an idiot, but he was right that causing panic was counterproductive (especially if the virus is relatively harmless). Making it an OH problem instead of a US problem rubbed her raw.
“Devils advocate, but if it only affects us…is that not the right thing to do?” She asked out loud.
Captain Steel said nothing.
“That is why you guys are loved,” Shaw exclaimed. “You always do the right thing. You’ve been very loyal to the republic and me in the past. I have always counted on you to get the message out there. Tell them to mask up, and they’ll just be alright; the people will believe you.”
Cap nodded solemnly, and the meeting ended. He and Corina left the room together and headed to the lobby. Corina had a lot to say but wanted to hold her tongue. Shaw claiming they were loyal to him was a stretch. Her brother was devoted the same way she was, to help keep society functioning and the people in it. They had no allegiance to one shareholder, to one particular government, but to the people that lived within it. After all, this government came to be long before they had ever been born.
In the elevator, Cap stewed. Corina could feel it; she could always tell when he was upset. At least her version; seeing this made for strange feelings. She glanced down at him slightly, then looked forward again.
“Credit for your thoughts,” she asked him. He stayed quiet for seconds more, and Corina watched a floor tic by on the display unit. Eventually:
“I’m just surprised you let that happen,” he said slowly. “They will be blaming OHs for the contagion. You know that, don’t you?”
The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.
“Well, we just have to make sure that doesn’t happen. If Shaw thinks his PR is better than mine, he’s sadly mistaken.”
“Is this same PR responsible for that prison?”
“What? That place was condemned before I was even born—hell, you were like a year old? Some place has to hold the bad ones.” Cap didn’t reply, and the elevator was silent again for a few more minutes. The two stared at the display screen as the numbers descended.
“Cor, can I be honest?” Cap broke the silence first.
“Of course.”
“I think it just bothered me when he called us loyal. Like you and me—or you and him?—are just lapdogs.”
“Screw Shaw,” she replied. “Don’t buy that loyalty crap.”
“Oh? It seems like you work closely with them….”
“Okay, sure, but that’s not loyalty. Do you consider what you do as fealty? Are you just a tool for the government?”
Cap didn’t answer right away, but eventually:
“We…worked in concert.”
“The only people Captain Steel was loyal to was the people he helped, and it's what I’ve tried to uphold.”
“It appears that you have,” he said with half a smile. Corina smirked herself, unsure if that was big brother flattery or something else.
“Are you ever going to tell me?” She asked.
“Tell you what?”
“About the 17 years,” she replied. “You know all about mine. What I did, have done. Was it bad or something?” Cap didn’t say anything and let the still air inside the elevator car fill the void. Eventually, Corina just continued:
“…You didn’t take over the world, did you?”
“No!”
“You’d tell me, wouldn’t you? Pinky swear?” Corina was grinning ear to ear; it felt so easy. Cap couldn’t help having a smile, either. Four more floors passed; eventually, he broke the silence again:
“After Corina died, I leaned heavily into equal rights and protections for our people,” he said softly. “It was her thing, her raison d'être, and I felt compelled to honor it. Before that…I just floated around doing what others expected me to do.”
“Wow,” Corina remained silent aside from this utterance. He lost some of his posture, his form, while he spoke. His shoulders sagged slightly, and his head dipped down a degree or two; his eyes sunk. He was in pain.
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to cast aspersions on you; this isn’t my world, and it’s not my place.” He slowly stroked his beard hair, rigidity returning to his form.
“I didn’t think you were,” she replied. “There’s…more I could be doing, definitely.” She swallowed hard and felt her cheeks flush; here was this almost 7-foot-tall reminder that so many things she let slide every day. So so many.
“Time,” his voice cut through her thoughts like he had read her mind.
“E-Excuse me?”
“Time together like this is what I missed the most, it seems.” He replied. “Just you and me, talking, sharing ideas, debating; it’s nice. I’d…forgotten.”
Corina smiled and said, “Me too.”
Three more floors passed, and it was silent all over again. They reached the bottom floor, where MJ was waiting for them. He had spent the last 30 minutes sulking because he was not allowed in the meeting. The whole reason he had come was to attend that meeting, and they took that away, the jerks. He lept up from his seat and approached his aunt and…his father. It was easier that time, wasn’t it? In an instant, Cap was standing up straight.
“Father, what did they say?” He asked. Cap felt his heart swell, and he grinned at MJ. Suddenly he tilted his head upward, and puzzlement crept upon his features.
“Do you hear that?” He asked.
“Hear what?” Corina replied; she strained to listen but only heard the gathered press just outside.
“Trouble. Colony on Appan 3; I can be there in a few minutes.” He turned to Corina and asked, “ Would you handle the press? I think it’d be good to stretch the muscles. How about you, boy? Wanna come with?”
“Sesh, yeah!” MJ grinned. Cap grinned and pried open the elevator doors; he and MJ disappeared up the shaft. Corina was stunned by how fast all that had happened. She left the lobby and met the reporters packed together shoulder to shoulder, awaiting her arrival. Fluttering camera bots buzzed above their heads, adjusted focus, and began going live.
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“No one has to worry. It seems to affect only OverHumans like me, but that’s why I wear a mask. Not because I’m afraid it’ll kill me or anyone else, but because there is nothing wrong with being cautious.”
“Are you concerned about the Anti-OH sentiment currently bubbling up?”
“That’s always a concern to my family and me. That’s why I’m out here right now because the only way to fight misinformation is with the truth.”
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“Amazing,” Shaw watched Lady Steel’s mini press conference alongside the still-running call with Dr. Lofano. “She’s always been easy to massage. Just a dumb dog.”
“I felt like he could see right through me,” Dr. Lofano patted his brow with a folded-up cloth napkin.
“Who? Captain Steel? He’s always been an idiot, too,” Shaw said, he rocked left and right in his rotating chair. “Gullible.”
“Personally, I think he did see right through you,” Jaime said. “Don’t you agree, John?” John Gibson downed a slug of liquor he had poured himself. He swallowed down hard and burped loudly.
“Charming,” she replied to that.
“I knew I liked you for a reason, John,” Shaw said. “How’s your stupid kid?”
“The same,” Gibson replied. “I’d like him to be isolated; I don’t want him catching that…OH disease.”
“Speaking of,” Shaw pivoted toward the doctor. “I want to hear about the little lab rat.”
“It’s as we feared, sir,” Dr. Lofano said. “He’s infected his father and sister. They went through the symptoms much more rapidly than OHs do.”
“So they’re dead already?”
“Yes, sir. They went through apoptosis for only 24 hours before the necrosis began. That’s at least 100x faster than anything we’ve seen happen to an OverHuman. The subject himself is still in that early apoptosis stage.”
“For how much longer?”
“7 Days before necrosis begins, sir.”
Shaw leaned forward in his chair and looked up at the good doctor.
“Run me through the process again,” he told him.
“Again, sir?” Shaw did not answer this.
“Very well,” The Doctor took a deep breath and wiped his brow down further. “After a week of respiratory symptoms, the first symptom of phase 2 is typically a bloody ear, eye, or nose. At that point, the body locks up, almost like it is undergoing rigor mortis, as your insides slowly liquefy and turn to mush. It’s an inside-out process and takes seven more days to fully complete, at which point the body is a viscous puddle of gore and viscera.”
Shaw shook his head; what a way to die. He pictured that happening to his fellow norm at 100x the speed and almost wanted to laugh. The poor sucker who got that infected would likely be some crappy laborer. It would decimate the workforce, but think of the savings from not having to pay those salaries. Or, even better, their fractional shares would be out there in the wild; perhaps he’d purchase them all up under a dummy corp and trade them at a marked-up price.
Dead shares were a big seller on the black market trade groups, and he thought it was fun to slum it up with low-life criminals from time to time. It made him feel like a crime boss or Mafiosi, like in movies. Shaw glanced up at his sister, who was watching him intently.
“What's the play once this gets out?” She asked.
“Who says it gets out? Are you planning to let it ‘get out’?” Shaw accused. The public battles between the two were the stuff of legend among the other shareholders. It was theater for the two of them, the doctor and John Gibson being the unwitting audience.
“Someone will eventually get sick, you idiot.”
“You’re so nasty; you know that? You shouldn’t speak to me that way. So nasty.”
“Jackson,” she said slowly. “Eventually, a norm outside our control will get sick.”
“And when that happens, they’ll blame the OHs. They’ll blame Lady Steel! I can just go on TV and say Oh well, I certainly never authorized them to say that. They love that loser, but at the end of the day, we’re fickle little monkeys just looking for a reason to fling our shit at.”
“Gresh, you’re such a disgusting pig.”
“I love you too, sister.”
“There’s also the financial to consider,” Gibson had decided to chime in. He picked his battles and only typically stepped into something if it made him look good and/or intelligent. “We’d save a lot of money when the salaries of those that have died will come off the books. We could have a record quarter in profits.”
Shaw leaned forward in his chair for a moment and then started laughing as if he’d heard the world's greatest joke. He got out of breath and slapped the table multiple times. Jaime and John stared at him awkwardly, wondering if this was another show for their benefit.
“As I said, John,” he eventually said. “I knew there was a reason I liked you.
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Captain Steel landed on the roof of his doppelgangers penthouse. The Long Evening was ending, and the neon glow from the city was barely kindling. He stared out into the expanse and sighed heavily; the cool pre-dawn air tickled his pores.
“That was a neat trick,” a voice from behind said. Captain Steel glanced back, having recognized Corina’s voice—his sister's voice?—and scoffed slightly.
“What trick?”
Corina had been leaning against the roof entrance and smiled. “Appan 3 is ten light years away; I can’t listen that far. Heck, I can only hear as good as any human can.”
“Probably because you haven’t needed to,” he replied. Corina looked down and scrunched her face. She slapped her palms against the thighs of her pants and sidled off the entrance to head in his direction. She stood next to her big brothers’ doppelganger and gazed across the city like him.
“I’ve learned a lot in the time since,” and he paused. “Since you—she—died. She never cared to learn; is it the same for you? I could teach you some stuff.” Corina nodded again and enjoyed the breeze fluttering in between strands of hair. She watched Central One change from glowing a translucent blue to falling to darkness; a tiny sliver of Brachium had only peeked above the horizon.
“I think having limits is important,” she said finally. “No offense.”
Cap smirked. “None taken. She’s said the same thing in the past.” The air was silent again save for a siren's whine. Brachium had moved some more and the leaking light cast sharp shadows across their face.
“Sometimes none of this feels real,” Cap said suddenly. “I half-expected not being allowed to fly to Appan; stopped for one reason or another.”
“If it makes you feel any better, I keep expecting to wake up myself.”
“It really doesn’t.” Cap started laughing, and so did Corina. The two allowed themselves to surrender to the moment; they were brother and sister. Standing next to one another felt as easy as breathing. After seconds the laughter slowly subsided, and the two resumed their peaceful silence. Brachium’s continued arrival created boundless shadows that skipped across the skyscrapers.
“MJ really talked my head off about the adventure you two had,” Corina said eventually.
“Yeah?” Cap nodded. “He’s a good kid.”
“I’ll tell you one thing,” Corina nodded also. “You being here has been good for him. For all of us.” Captain Steel’s gaze immediately shifted downward; an emotion struck him he was trying very hard to conceal, but it didn’t escape Corina’s notice. She knew that body language all too well.
Corina reached over to comfort the man, but just as quickly as she had noticed, the counterpart was standing upright in his usual posture. He glanced over to Corina and slowly offered his fist. Corina’s eyes went wide momentarily, taken aback by the gesture. It had been so long since she’d been offered this chance that her eyes started to leak. She provided her fist in return.
The two fist-bumped and continued watching Brachiums rise in silence.