On the First Day
All was shining brightly in New Popolisville with the citizens being citizenly and the trains conducting in a timely fashion and the pigeons in the park with bowels full of bread and The Hidden Jewel being heisted.
"Listen here (grabs his ear) you pathetic jeweler and give me all you _____!" simpered Sad Sac. "Look, the MAN, I knows I need those _____ or else . . ." A diamond the size of his broken dream caught Sad's eye. "How much does that cost? Is it hollow?"
Sad Sac pointed the unloaded gun into the jeweler's face while pressing the other gun, the loaded one, harder and into his very own head. The jeweler gave up and parted with _____ without hesitation and hoped they would do this pitiful man some good.
"Cry for help and we'll both be SORRY!" and with that Sad Sac meekly limped through the front door and hit the street sobbing. He silently slumped on the edge of the curb and waited to be arrested.
This is how every day in New Popolisville began, with Sad Sac getting away in broad daylight.
ELSEWHERE
The League of Headquarters:
- The Fortune 5 featuring Detective Worth
- Team Loner
- The Super-Sensibles featuring Drunk Punk
- Agents of the Statement
- The Beautiful Beasts
- The Landlords featuring the Custodian from the Bureau of Bureaucracy and a Faceless Robot
- The Power of Our Minute Friends
- The Extra Men with Suzy Seashells and her Adoring Fans
- Et Cetera Etc. and the Wrest
Everyone was at the Super Jamboree over in Popolisville and Solid-Dude had nothing better to do so he was incorrectly filling out some forms that a Faceless Robot had left on a Faceless Robot's desk. Solid-Dude knew this created a Möbius strip out of the red tape but took an unseen joy from the following frustration that a certain Faceless Robot would experience. Correctly filing the forms away he thought that he goodn't help himself if he didn't do just one more thing.
LATER THAT AFTERNOON
A Faceless Robot rolled into the upper offices of the Fortune 5 and demanded, well dehumanded, mostly dehumanized the receptionist, who was, of course, the Secret Secretary in disguise, "I MUST SEE SIR WARD REWARD" it clicker'd and clack'd.
The Secret Secretary smiled, adjusted her face mask, politely offered a Faceless Robot to have a seat, took one quick phone call and walked through the Golden Doors, after opening the Pearly Gates and paying a small entry fee. Clicker'd and clacker'd and clicker'd and clickery clackety cloot! She came back looking slightly pale, a trick she had picked up from a hunk of a monk, took one quick phone call and politely offered a Faceless Robot to have a small entry fee and it click'd and clack'd its way inside.
Sir Reward was still at the Super Jamboree but thankfully Corporal COPulent and Detective Rich Worth were sitting across from one another at a long and narrow ProfiTable. They were talking about money. A Faceless Robot rumbled in and said "I KNEAD HELP" clicking its clips like clappity clap, "HELP" clap. Clap. CLAP! Detective Worth looked at the robot and wondered what this machine would need now, the clapping steadily becoming steadier and steadier, wait, not quite "need" - it almost sounded like it CLAP! was CLAP! with CLAP! a CLAP! CLAP! CLAP!
A Faceless Robot stopped clapping. A Faceless Robot stopped. A Faceless Robot? The Detective rose from his position, loosing change from his pockets to let them nestle deep within his lucky chair. In the stillness of that moment as Detective Worth went to aid the robot, he remembered his debt to Sir Reward for all the old man had done for him and how the old man would call him Worthy when they golfed together on the greens. Literally made of money, these greens, ". . . holes so fancy you'll want to invest all your balls in 'em, hey 'ole Worthy."
"Worth! Is it functional?" stated Corporal COPulent as he rose from his chair, crafted by a très cheery sage from an aged cherry tree, his uniform, the finest silk from the rarest blue-blooded silkworms dating back to the Sing Dynasty, his belt and holster were the kindest given leather from a kindly virgin doe, boots worn by the original Capitol COPulent, his gun, exactly wordless. "Is there a reset button?" he said while assessing the machine's head and taking his ancient baton out and tapping the metal arm. "Is there a problem?"
Tap. Tap. Tap. The Corporal almost called for backup. He wouldn't need it. This time. Besides, he figured, Worth was with him.
The Detective looked at the Corporal. "Call for backup. This goodn't get any worse."
OVER IN POPOLISVILLE
Thank the GOD that Worth isn't here, Sister Mercy Mary winfully prayed as things got much worse. The Jamboree was in full swing and the organizers were happy to have her there and she was happy to be there doing the majority of the worklord. Mary prayed for Worth. For Reward. For success and nothing less. She recalled last years event and how peaceful everything was, how good she was. The Sister slammed her cross into the alien/demon hybrid and crucifixed it while holyelling the WORD at a pack of demon/alien hybrids.
"Watch out!" Mary knelt and sang the WORD while holding her rose beads and miraculously saved the Son of Reason of the Super-Sensibles against an alien/demon/unicorn hybrid. "You should be more careful Son." and she kissed him on the forehead, prayed for Reason and asked for strength. All hell had broken loose. "Where are you Reward?" and Sister Mercy Mary prayed once more.
MEANWHILE
Detective Worth had called for an autopsy by an Autopsychic and a lifeless metal robot lay on a lifeless metal table in a lifeless metal morgue. Worth held a silver nickel in his hand, a gift from Sir Reward for solving the Case of the Missing Writer's Block. This was just before he joined the Fortune 5 and was working the ART District beat for the New Popolisville Police Department. The Autopsychic cut through the robot's faceless head and Worth thought he smelt burnt toast. Sir Reward needed a replacement since the False Pariah didn't work out and you can't very well call it the Fortune 4, now can you? The number four is fantastic but five is just lucky.
The autopsy continued as most of the robotic insides were now outsides and Corporal COPulent investigated the investments in his vestments and straightened his tie, which was the colour of forgotten coffee, a gift from Reward for a job well done. The old man had told the Corporal, "You're best when honest and that's the true test of a hero."
The autopsy was now complete and Worth peered over all the contents and fell even silently, mouth slightly turned as his eyes locked onto a copy of a book called The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes written by a man named Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. He picked the book up, noticed that the third story entitled "A Case of Identity" was missing and Detective Worth wondered how exactly this came to be inside a Faceless Robot.
On the Second Day - Part One
Busy St. was a bustling with some going, toing, and froing while Hustle Ave. was a hustling with Sad Sac a mugging this very helpful and gentle woman who had _____.
"Here's the deal grand granny, you mother of Gin & Pension, hand it over or else . . ." he slobbered. She saw him with moist eyes as he stood before her handcuffed and clad in bright, right orange, an orange a subtle shame of shady.
"Don't mind the new look, I hear it's all the rage in prison." and lamely raising his fist, with his other wrist in tow, Sad Sac threatened to hit her with all the might that one so hopefully hopeless could muster. Tsk, tsk, tsking, this little old lady gladly gave up and wished she could give this sweet child even more _____. Perhaps some hard candy?
"Beats hard TIME!" he said. The crinkled corner of her mouth crinkled a little more as her parting words of "Poor boy." sent a wave of desperation in the air. Sad Sac held onto the _____ and waited for the inevitable takedown which would never come.
OVER ELSEWHERE
Jack Aesthetic was piloting the Giant Condor-C back to New Popolisville and the Sister was saying, ". . . I understand Jack yet I think it was irresponsible of Reward to just leave in the middle of the Jamboree." Jack's mask, held tight against his head, had a sheen like copper and was the colour of a suave mauve. "Ward does as Ward shall do, Sissy. Perhaps he took his private plane and flew to his private sea? Perhaps he has a secret identity that none know of?" Jack saw an image of the old man, in his mind and now in the clouds, of Ward's alter ego, standing there in the heavens with a host of angles rising before Him. The plane punched a small hole through its cloudy right eye and the Sister said, "Would a simple telecall really kill him?" The clouds in front of the nun formed into a funeral with all who he has given to mourning the loss of one so generous. Count Accountant came into the cockpit and asked to speak to the Sister alone. When they were gone, Jack switched on the autopilot and then the autolisten.
"What is it, Count?" The Accountant recounted his figuring and numbering and the improper imbalance that had accrued over the course of the Super Jamboree. He was worried about any liability that might scare the shareholders, what with the expensive assets and the assistive expenses and Sir Reward not being able to explain the discrepancy on the account of his not being here. "By my fellow Sisters, how much are we out?" The number sounded far to high for the Sister. "How long can we keep quiet on this?" The number sound far to low for her.
NEW POPOLISVILLE
The AutoCOPS had been working all night and most of the morning. Detective Worth had been reading all night and most of the morning when the Corporal walked into his office. "We picked someone up. Care to join me in the interrogation room?" Worth looked up from his newly acquired book, discreetly yawned and placed Sherlock Holmes in one of the many pockets inside his plain, long and lucky coat. "How is it?" the Corporal inquired. Together they walked to the elevator while Worth gave his initial review. "It's strange. It feels like Popolisville more than a century ago but after checking the deposits in the DataBank, none of the names or places matched up. Same with the writer." The elevator hummed into quick action. "The main character is fascinating though, a detective, like me. This detective uses inductive reasoning and observation to solve his cases. Unlike me." There was a quiet ding as the elevator came to an abrupt stop and Worth extended his arm, "After you, my dear Watson."
The two of them were observing N-Former from behind the one-way mirror. "The AutoCOPS did not have a lot to go on. This was the best they could do with so little evidence." Corporal COPulent took off his gloves, which were woven with Artisilk and had a coppery tinge to them. Cracking his knuckles he said, "Shall we?"
Worth followed him in and had a seat in front of N-Former. "Hey, I dunno nothing 'cept something 'bout that thing, you know? No? I was nowhere near wherever you think I wasn't. That thing with a robot, sure there's chitter and me? I was hanging out by my ladder, as I always do, every night and none a you can say otherwise. No? You hear 'bout what happened to Sally Surefoot? Surefeet now. Was with all the third degree?"
The Corporal sighed, "Tell us about the robot."
"Plenty robots round these parts these days, nary a week goes by without some Robot Face try 'scaping from prison. No? Maybe it had some help from a certain warden but I don't know nothing 'bout nothing 'bout that!" Worth took his book out and asked, "Have you ever seen this before? Heard anything?"
"Smells old. No? You try the library?" The room became still. After a couple of moments Worth took the book back. "What does the N stand for anyway?"
"I ain't never gonna say. Can't make me. I got rights, lefts and maybe even something on your momma. No? Am I free to go?"
MOMENTS LATER
"What now?" wondered the Corporal.
Worth looked at his lucky watch. Everyone would be back tonight and so far they had nothing. "Go and retrace the robot's last couple of hours, maybe the AutoCOPS missed something. And interview everyone again in the League who never went to the Jamboree."
"What are you going to do?"
Detective Worth felt like Captain Hunch. "I guess I'll go to the library."
On the Second Day - Part Two
The AutoLIMO gingerly drove itself up and away from the downtown core, past the Seventh Sealed Bank and the City Hall of Justice, over the Silvery Bridge and under the Fallen River until it finally hit the Freedway. Detective Worth, who enjoyed riding behind the wheel when alone, was savouring the sights and listening to the radio.
". . . and in what they're calling the Late Escape, a Robot Face, New Popolisville's infamous ex-mayor, attempted a daring prison break but was foiled yet again by a change in the prison timekeeping records, the fourth change in as many weeks. On the lighter side of things, this year's Super Jamboree was a smashing success, helping to raise over ten million dollars for the Super Sickids Fund."
*click*
". . . tired of sleeping? Napping got you down? At the Institute of Woken Dreams we can help you realize your dream of a sleepless life. You can explore more at your nearest DataBank by entering WOKEN DREAMS."
*click*
". . . latest from Suzy Seashells and her Adoring Fans, here's Perchance!"
There's a boy called Yes,
And a girl named No,
She was in distress,
He was apropos.
Saved her from a mess,
And wouldn't you know,
Love flew more than less,
Now they're quid pro quo.
The library was at the heart of New Popolisville; some might say it was the heart of the city itself, some being mostly librarians. Worth noted the presence of Mayor O'Mortal and a ream of red ribbon wrapped around the high regal columns guarding the front entrance way. A snip of some scissors would christen the library's latest award of a brand spanking new DataBank, the second largest in the whole city, a gift from Sir Reward. The AutoLIMO pulled up to one of the side doors and hummed into submission.
Yes and No got a little crazy!
Nine months pass, had a little maybe!
He exited the vehicle and entered the building. Everything was quiet like the inside of a church mouse, with mostly everyone outside; their noise being muffled by the layers of brick and years of shushing. Worth headed towards the old book section, beyond the towering shelves filled with a multitude of colourful spines of varying width and height. Everything got a little dimmer, dustier and drabber yet he could almost taste the musty morsel of history. All of a sudden, an Agent of the Statement, none other than WORDwork came buzzing by with an assistant with an assistant. Worth observed the three of them systematically taking random words from random books. Before he could gleam any motive for such behaviour WORDwork says, "Detective Worthwhile of the Fortune Fiefdom! How's it slanging?"
"Short and to the point. Have you heard WORD? A Faceless Robot is dead."
A shock tremor'd across the readable WORDwork's face upon hearing the new news. "No GOOD and so distracted. Pet project and they're exhausted." he said, throwing his thumb behind him where the assisting assistants were sleeping soundly, both of their heads resting against Vol. 7 of The Serious Jester in a Court of Laughter. "What you have spoken is a thing I cannot chairish," WORDwork's speech becoming inflicted, "and while I may have had my different dances with that mundane metal monkey, a question must beg on bent knees to crooked feet," he lightly paused, "might there be a who in the whodunnit?"
Worth rubbed his eyes and thought better of rubbing his ears. "No."
"Suspected leading clues?"
The detective quietly produced Sherlock Holmes. WORDwork voraciously devoured every single page in a few single seconds with the help of his photogenic memory and then handed the book back to Worth.
"Even better the second time. Shame about the missing adventure."
"Second time?" Worth exclaimed. "Where did you see it for the first time? The DataBank had no record of, wait, can you get a copy of the third adventure to me?"
"Certainty! As to where I saw it, a public library is a poor place for secrets." he gestured at his assistants or perhaps it was the books. "Shall we head back to the League?"
On the Second Day - Part Three
Way back in the day and before the invention of Super, the original League of Headquarters was nothing more than a glorified clubhouse on the wrong side of the tracks. A hodge-podge of slightly super-groups looking for, ultimately, a break on their taxes. As New Popolisville grew so did the League, until one day the building was all grown up. Tall, light and handsome. So bright and such a shining beacon of virtue and steel, of justice and glass, of GOOD and gold.
Corporal COPulent had a job to do. He loved his job. Loved the order. The law. The law was right beyond wrong. Above it as well. Right was always above and beyond wrong. He understood his job. He put on his sunglasses. And he suddenly saw through the League. Through the floors, the walls, the structure was as clear as the singing bells of the late Graham Alexander, a great inventor; a great grandfather too. He invented Super and without it, the Corporal couldn't do his job. His grandfather taught him about right and wrong. He taught him the secret to Super. He said to his grandson, "Listen to me Alex, the secret to Super is simple. There is a WORD in swords but no swords in a WORD. You might not understand this now. You will one day. Your older sister Mary understands. She'll look out for you and you for her. She understands. You will too."
Alex Alexander thought about his sister at the Jamboree and thought about his grandfather. He missed them both. He thought about his job. The AutoCOPS missed something. He should have seen to the interviews himself. Seeing through everything in the building had its advantages. The records showed only seven people inside the League since yesterday morning. Alexander, Worth, the Secretary, and a Faceless Robot all have alibis. He spotted the Manmad, the Moose and the Mute. In that order and off he went.
AGENCY OF THE STATEMENT
The Manmad was wearing his C-Thru Skin and a straighthat and nothing else. The Manmad was powering his flowers. The Manmad had company. "Well I'll be a copulating corporeal copula if it isn't CORPoral Copulent!" he lied and cracking all the sense he fit in his shallow sanity. "Wry again am I! A robot's death is like its life! I have mournography. How dare you shoe! Plenty have I and I have plenty. Why wasn't it me! I wanted to bill the cot! Fill it kindly! One killethal suicideath coming up!"
Alexander took off his sunglasses and looked the Manmad right in the eye. "Are you trying to tell me that you're sorry for not killing the robot yourself?"
"I'm pretty in pity! And a plaid hand!"
"Had a plan? To kill the robot? How would you have done it?" Alexander asked.
20 MINUTES LATER
"I still don't understand why you're not locked up." he sighed and the Manmad gave him a lollipop.
"You're one jollicop!" fried the creek and then he dried the train.
"That will be all for now. Carry on." and Alexander wasted no time in going to see Brother Moose.
THE MERRY MONASTERY
The Monastery was on the top Forest Floor, its idyllic country green perched and nestled on a balcony over on the East Tower. Everyone calls it the Beast Tower. Four pairs of giant wings made of concrete, white carbon and golden silver spring from beneath the floor and fold gently over a monk in a temple on a hill in a forest on a balcony in a tower. The wings closest curved over half the greenery while the furthest pair flew straight up, the wing tips bent back ever so majestically. There was an afternoon blue blanketing the air and a pair of clouds rested gently in the middle of the sky, which was crispy and clearly beautiful.
"The GOOD GOD thanks you, Alex." and Brother Moose wasted no time in eating the lollipop. "Care for a prayer?"
There's a goodly battle that
Shares a badly prattle, and
Those that exhaust goodly and
Souls that accost badly, what
Few won and understood, that
Through one comes some GOOD,
Whom the sun hums to GOD and
Do they run, drum or plod?
Say unto them,
Whoa to the NO GOOD!
Whoa to the NO GOD!
Badly confused, then hear all my news with
Goodly infused and lay bare the shy ruse with
Proudly accused, we cheer with wry music.
Say unto them,
Whoa to the NO GOOD!
Whoa to the NO GOD!
Now who is this devil, this Prince of Lies?
You ain't nothing 'cept GOD in disguise,
Too GOOD to be true since we got wise.
Say unto them,
Whoa to the NO GOOD!
Whoa to the NO GOD!
"Wonder how you shall say the True Law?" rang Brother Moose.
Spoke Alexander, "With a revertant and renew'd awe." as he looked down at the ascetic. Brown and bare and big and bald. Alexander resisted an urge to sit with Brother Moose under the sicknomore tree and hum some hymns. Worth would be back soon. He noticed a spider had built its web between the monk's feet. The records showed that he'd been sitting in his temple for the past few weeks. He wished the Brother a very contrite "Merry, merry." and Alexander went to see what the Mute had to say.
THE ORIGINAL LEAGUE OF HEADQUARTERS
When the Super-Sensibles moved in they opted for the original League as their own headquarters. The glorified clubhouse sat in a large courtyard on the glorified ground floor. It's still the same old place since way back in the day except it's called the Oloh now. Or that Club. Or this Olohouse. Or on Olohground. Alexander walked through the front door and the Astute Mute was plainly sitting and mainly holding a half a century year old newspaper with a frontpage headline that read INVENTOR OF SUPER MYSTERIOUSLY MURDERED.
She was wearing her Artful Attire, made from every letter in the alphabet. A Witty Watch with no face, just these tiny Golden Gears and Silver Springs. They were still and broken and the watch had a Savvy Strap that wrapped around her right wrist and up her lengthy limb to an Adept Armlet. Shoulders were naked and revealing her neck which was clasped in a Clever Choker latched with a Locket Lock and no key in sight. Lips were useless and her bland and blind eyes were shaped like almonds with a creamy hazel center. She was holding an Uninteresting Umbrella which was the colour of umbrage and it unfurled and curled above her. Hair fell back and wound around down the left arm and grew from her fingers and into the handle for her Hairybraid Handbag which she reached into and pulled out a long lost letter. She handed it to the Corporal.
The old envelope was stamped and delivered to the League and addressed to Graham Alexander. It was from Ward Reward. Alex opened and read it.
The strangest thing happened to me just the other day! Oh Hammy, if only you were here to invent a little sense of it all. I was giving a dose of some Super to this guy who says he sells futures; not like that fortune seller, something further. He shows me the far fates and I see t'morrow's morrow, which consists of this lovely blind lady getting dressed! Very slowly. It takes her all day and all night and she doesn't say a word the entire time! It's artfully mesmerizing. And she's in the middle of the League Lounge! It's the same next century as it is today! No growth? How can that be?
Then the dame sits down and picks up a newspaper. I can't read the headline, a drawback to bending the lens of time I suppose. When she pops the paper up, this old envelope falls out and slides straight into her fuzzy purse. Then Captain COPulent walks in! He hasn't aged a bit and he stares at her and then the girl gives him this old envelope and he rips it open and looks at this letter. He seems to understand what he's reading and just as he's about to say something, anything at this silent point, the whole vision fades! Why is the future so quiet, Hammy? What does it all mean? - Ward
On the First Day - Part Robot
All this really began when a Faceless Robot woke up on that fateful day of its murder. The Robot immediately noted three strange anomalies or illogicalies.
1. It woke up.
2. It woke up from a dream.
A strange dream about that time Ward Reward gave it some Super. Before that moment a Faceless Robot was just a machine. Clck clck. That's all it could do. After a touch of Super, and well, clickery clackety cloot! An original Robot with all sorts of robotic feats built in and ready to run. An engineering marvel and a being of pure enginery. It dreamt of its birthing into the world of flesh, blood and bone.
3. It yawned.
On the Second Day - Part Four
Worth and WORDwork had come back from the library and were talking with the Manmad in the Agency's library. The Manmad was saying to Worth, "The young officer then politely listened to everything I had to say and left without saying much. I thought he was acting a little odd, myself! I worry about him, Rich. You know how I worry. Look at the time, gotta go!"
"Seize you 'round." WORDwork said and the Manmad muttered mildy and dimly, something about a recipe for a can of homemade Super.
"Nice fellow." Worth expressed and, "Now, about the book, the story. How does it end? How does it begin?"
"My dear fellow," said Sherlock Holmes as we sat on either side of the fire in his lodgings at Baker Street, "life is infinitely stranger than anything which the mind of man could invent. We would not dare to conceive the things which are really mere commonplaces of existence. If we could fly out of that window hand in hand, hover over this great city, gently remove the roofs, and peep in at the queer things which are going on, the strange coincidences, the plannings, the cross-purposes, the wonderful chains of events, working through generation, and leading to the most outre results, it would make all fiction with its conventionalities and foreseen conclusions most stale and unprofitable."
WORDwork gave Worth a case of the WORDs and he had his adventure in the wink of an eye. "Thanks. Where and when did you first see it?"
"That's TOP SECRET and it COST PETER his life. Peter was a STREET COP and his TOES CREPT when he walked the beat with his PET ESCORT but he had a SCEPTER TO help CREEP TOTS out. With me so far? The WAR RIDERS killed Peter after he found the book in a DRAWER yesterday morning. You 'earing me, as the Thin Man might say or should we DRAW you a picture?" and WORDwork, Peter, his escort, the tots and the War Riders along with one Thin Man all looked expectantly at Detective Worth.
"I got it. Third library today." and bid farewell and on up he went to the Fortune Floors.
THE METAL MORGUE
Alex was looking down at a Faceless Robot. He reviewed the Autopsychic's log of internal contents. Precision Fission Decision Engine, Plistac plastic tubing, Golden Gears and Silver Springs. There were Wires of One and Switches of Zero. A fiber optical course with a circus of circuits, conduits, and canduits! A couple of qubits. A few crumbs. And Sherlock Holmes.
Alex wondered about those little bits of bread but aside from that and the book, there still wasn't much to go on. He hoped he'd have better luck in the robot's office.
THE ON/OFFICE
The elevator whirled down to the Forgotten Floor and stopped with a cling! Alex stepped out into a small waiting area no bigger than where he just was. Enough to fit a small chair and a door off to the side. The door was made of burnt redwood with a window of frozen glass. It was also locked. Using a trick the Captain showed him, the Corporal pulled out his LAWhistle and chirped the appropriate key. He opened the door and surveyed his surroundings. It was an office. Office desk, office chair. Is that a filing cabinet? Affirmative.
Alex picked up a framed photograph of a Faceless Robot and Reward taken long ago, around the time of the Quick War and discovered, to his surprise, that they were both smiling. Someone, or thing, had marked the robot's faceless area with cartoon happiness. A clear act of vandalism and illegal under the Clear Vandalism Act. How did the AutoCOPS miss this?
AUTOHQ
The report was prepared and double checked, triple checked, and even not checked and sent out over the Choir. They had an AutoJOB to do.
THE BASEMENT TOWER
The robot lived with the Landlords. Alex took the elevator past the Flooded Floors, then an escalator over the Hall of Mazes, then stairs through the Unfinished Room and finally arrived at the robot's apartment. The door, made of heavy lead, was unlocked and easily opened and he surveyed his surroundings. It was an office. Office desk, office chair. No filing cabinet. That was a nice personal touch but the desk was askew and the chair knocked down as if a struggle had taken place. The records showed nothing as the AutoCOPS failed to sweep the area for evidence. Alex was going to give an earful to that AutoBOSS.
THE DAY BEFORE
The chair knocked back as a Faceless Robot stood up, stunned. It had a face. It was a Robot once more. "HOW IS THIS POSSIBLE" it clink'd and clank'd.
"Anything is possible these days." a mysterious voice whisped.
The Quick War
"Just think about it. Graham?" said Ward. "If we pull this off, think of all the good that it'll do. For the League. For New Popolisville!"
"And I'm trying to tell you Ward, that it is far to dangerous to give Super to one of them. The consequences of such an action, gone bad, are enormous. You can't take back what you've given, you know that Ward." Graham Alexander pulled up on the wrench. An awful wrenching sound followed. "Which one would you give it to?"
Ward answered, "You're a man looking for a detail to a plan that will surely prevail! What two greater things good there be in the whole world? I'll tell you at the meeting later tonight. Give you some time to think about it, is all I'm saying." and Ward Reward bounded with extra steps out of Graham Alexander's research lab, almost bowling over Ms. Surefoot, Graham's sidekick. She was returning from the garden, seeing to a study on the effects that diluted Super had on a wide variety of vegetables. The results could have astounding repercussions for grocery markets across the globe. She asked Graham, "What did Ward want?" and he said, "Wants to give Super to a villain."
"Which one?"
LEAGUE LOUNGE
Quite a period to be alive in. All the newspapers went and wrote about it. This invention of Super, and all of us heroes coming together. Crime down drastically, citizens up critically. Life would be quite perfect, an ideal deal except for those pesky villains. My question to all of you is, what do we do about them? Uncle Lex? asked Shychick as everyone in the room listened intently.
"My only concern is to the LAW. If they ain't breaking it, couldn't care a bit. Scum is scum, could be dressed in rags, like the Rag Monster, or in a polished suit. The LAW goes beyond all appearances. Could be a hero and they break the LAW, just means I will take you in." The Captain clenched his stern teeth with a firm jaw.
"You still at that GOOD LAW routine? You haven't come to your senses yet?" said Graham as he and Ms. Surefoot strolled through the side door, which creaked like an old western. "Give up on the one true LAW and focus on better laws, sound laws, laws of science!"
Up till that point, apart from Graham and Surefoot, everyone in the Lounge was sitting. Even Gecko Boy, albeit from the ceiling. But if Graham's brother, the GOOD Captain himself, didn't come barreling over the Unbarrelable and if the GOOD Captain didn't have a bent right hook in his eyes.
Graham noticed that his sibling was a little cranky today. "Ms. Surefoot?"
And sure enough, off the cuff, she went and grabbed the Captain's forward momentum and threw him into herself. Those feet danced forever, and then she swung him and spun him all around the room until he tripped back into his ample blue chair. Ms. Surefoot gave a cute little curtsy, even her bosom bowed a bit, before returning to Graham's side.
Lex gave his brother a mild scowl.
Ward walked in the front entrance with a Faceless Robot and trailing behind them was this guy, who's wearing these clothes that shine. This guy had polished his favorite suit just for this debut. He had bought it on Bells Day over in Popolisville. On the same day he got some Super.
And Ward says, "Hello gang, this is the Manmad and we have a proposition for you."
20 MINUTES LATER
Ward was beaming. Graham left halfway through the presentation. Surefoot stayed. Lex shook his head. The Manmad was juggling. The Drawing Detective didn't doodle the entire time. Shychick was actually weeping. She was also crying on the inside and everyone heard.
Mr. Master had another drink. Gecko Boy fell off the wall at one point. One of the worst effected was the Wary Hero, who threw in his cape and called it a day.
10 MINUTES AGO
Graham Alexander wondered if Ward was going off the deep end. He seemed to be taking a greater number of risks lately. This latest venture of his though. Giving just a small amount of Super to the lowliest of criminals was absurd enough but to the Time Mime? She was about as crazy as Ward and his mad plan.
THE NEXT DAY
The Time Mime woke up that morning with a yawn and a stretch. She had slept in her costume again but she didn't care. She felt so relaxed. As the seconds passed from present and into the past, she slowly noticed how uncomfortable her own dilapidated bed really was. Her pillows seemed to push against her neck at odd angles. Her sheets scratched and her mattress lumped. She finally got up with a sigh, stretched once more and went out for breakfast.
Her real name was Lily Quick and she acquired her powers the old-fashioned way. She had stolen them. Clueless military higher-ups with access to cutting edge scientific research were her bread and butter. They called it the Tock Tick Ray and when she used it on herself a few years back, there was no hesitation. The white coats and glasses had only tested it on lab animals so they never got a chance to see what it could do to a human being. She destroyed the paperwork, sabotaged the machine and framed the hapless military man with whom she was seeing that week. The project was scrapped shortly thereafter.
Lily learned pantomime when she was younger and from her father, a stage performer, who taught her how to focus and move. The thieving she got from her mother. Imbued with the fabric of time and controlled through significant gestures over her face and body, Lily Quick turned out to be quite the criminal mastermind, although at the moment all she wanted were some waffles.
Up ahead, in the park across from her building, a man was standing without motion and around him there had gathered a crowd of people, laughing hysterically. Lily saddled over and watched as a small boy rolled on the ground, belly shaking. A policeman tittered. A couple snickered. The man in the middle was dressed the same as Lily, mimed right out. And he just stood there, doing nothing. The people laughed harder with greater rolling, tittering and snickering. Was that a guffaw? The less he performed, the more the crowd warmed to the man, with curls of mirth thrown before him and the longer the charade continued the more compelled Lily was to think the man a hack. The crowd, imbeciles.
Then the man, the mime in the middle, walked up to Lily and gave her his card. It was blank and while she might have thrown the thing on the ground, for the first time in her life she felt utterly baffled as to what to do next. Why would she keep a blank card from this mockery of a buffoon? Why did she need this thing? She wanted to hurry this travesty up, wished to be on with it. She felt dizzy and timeless and her eyes went wide and then WHEN happened.
TO BE CONTINUED
