Orb Weaver: Investigations, 4

Armsmaster met me at the door to his lab.

“I apologize for the mess,” he commented. “The aftermath of… well, recent events has kept me busy.”

With that, I walked into the immaculate lab. I could…

There was a sense, the same way I could see the patterns of a beehive or ant colony, the way things moved in unison, that filled the lab. Tools racked, systems designed in such a way that you could move from station to station with no wasted time.

I had ideas on what I could use for my own little workshop. Even if I wasn’t a Tinker, I could see ways to save time…

Time was more precious than gold.

“Hello, Investigator,” Dragon said from her screen.

A shut-in, someone with extreme agoraphobia. And someone protecting their identity. I doubted that image was of the real Dragon.

“Dragon,” I said. “I thank you for your attention.”

“Before your intervention, Galveston and the coastal regions were assumed to be facing a 60-80 percent death toll. Your achievement makes it an honor for me to meet you… though I hope you’ll take measures to protect your wellbeing.”

“Others have mentioned that.” I nodded. “But time is passing, so what is your plan?  I’m more or less your test dummy here.”

“Yes. In part, I will be using our Endbringer Prediction Software to learn how you do things. To predict how you might respond and then we could apply that to lesser prediction models, which might help first responders.” Armsmaster nodded. “You are aware of the difficulties of applying Tinkertech directly to mass production, yes?”

“Of course. Our world would be quite different if it could be easily replicated.”

“True, but our world is already somewhat different. Solar panels, engines, computers, all are in advance of Earth Aleph because we are able to use Tinkertech as a model to reach… slightly beyond our limits.” He shook his head, and the suspicion of a chuckle emerged. “And then we send some of those developments to Earth Aleph and they help refine them, so it’s a partnership.”

Because Earth Aleph only has to worry about humans and weak parahumans, not Endbringers and Class S threats.

“I see. How will we do this?”

Armsmaster gestured to a corner of the room, where there was a pod with a door in it. “You will be presented with a number of scenarios, ranging from minor to major, while I, Dragon and Kid Win evaluate how the modified program is learning from you. Then, after we’re completed with that, Dragon and I will test the program, to see if it can modify itself to compensate for changing circumstances. In addition to our group, various PRT offices will act as dispatchers and civilians sending in information to your position. Some of it may be incorrect.”

“I see. Well, shall we begin?”

Armsmaster nodded. Well, he didn’t like to waste time any more than I did.

When I got into the pod, I noticed eight monitors, and two “single hand” style keyboards, along with a headset.

“Don’t try to slow down,” Armsmaster said. “The program will hopefully keep up with you—if it doesn’t, then it’s clearly not ready.”

“Understood.” Then I closed the door.

“Starting with calibration testing. A normal Brockton Bay day.”

I couldn’t help but snort at that. A “normal Brockton Bay day” could describe a vast range of events.

And it started out… normal. I was in control of the traffic cameras, the test informing me that I was to try to maintain or improve on the traffic patterns of a single day.

Easy. But that was the point. Throwing his program at a full scale disaster would ensure it would fail.

I got to it. Over the next hour, we engaged in a normal “day” in the Bay, in the last half hour sped up. Cape fights, auto-wrecks, jams caused by street corner fights and festivals…

It was easy in a way, but the patterns… That was what made it work. I could see the patterns of the traffic and the accidents merging, spreading out in waves as they impacted the rest of the city.

Then I got out, and Armsmaster nodded. “The information we’re gathering is useful, but if you could, how did you note the traffic jam on Seventh?”

I gestured at the screen. “Seventh is a major artery… and because of that, the natural impulse is to gravitate to it because you can move faster. The auto-wreck on fifth was far away, but people would hear the news on their radios…” I smiled. “And everyone wants to get home faster. It’s… part of the whole of the city.”

“I see.”

“Where’s Kid Win?” Surely they hadn’t just chased him off. That would do terrible things—

“He got an idea and had to head to his lab,” Armsmaster said. “He’s shown an improvement in completing projects, but he can still be… impulsive.”

“But he’s definitely improving,” Dragon said. “Thanks to your help.”

“It was nothing.” I glanced at the screens. “Shall we try a second phase?”

“Yes, This one will include a number of relatively small scale parahuman conflicts, but they will move dynamically. In this, I’d like you to both try to divert civilian traffic and direct first responders to the fastest routes.”

“Very well.”

Things started moving faster. Autowrecks, a fight between the now-absent Hookwolf and Oni Lee, a Leet game that went wrong and suddenly the streets were covered in an icy coating, cars spinning out of control.

I kept directing the phantom minions. Inaccuracies started to pile up. The cameras went out in one block and frantic calls informed me of dozens dead, but when the units I dispatched got there, it was a tar truck on its side, the tar burning, pouring out thick smoke—and panicked civilians convinced it was ten times worse than it was. Some cars had malfunctions, others didn’t. I got the distinct feeling that the PRT officers on the other end of our drill were enjoying throwing issues at me.

Good. If it wasn’t hard, it wasn’t a good test.

Time kept passing and then finally Armsmaster announced that the test was over—for now.

I got out and noticed that he looked a little annoyed and Dragon was smiling. And…

Oh, I’d lost track of time. It was seven.

“We could do more if you feel up to it—“

“Armsmaster,” Dragon said. “I think we have enough data for now, especially given Director Piggot’s note?”

“Note?”

“Not everyone enjoys Armsmaster’s work ethic. That’s why Kid Win was sent home.  This isn’t something we can do in a single day, however much some might want to.”

I didn’t see anything wrong with his work ethic.

“In any case, we have enough to start a basic modeling of the disaster response subroutines.” Armsmaster looked at the screen. “It worked with some aspects of my predictive models although the sheer number of variables make this a difficult job.’

“If I may make one suggestion?” Both turned to me. “I’m not a Tinker, but I think it would be wise to give some consideration to the interface. We have to assume that many people will be using this system under conditions of great stress and without training. I don’t know if it’s feasible, but perhaps several different levels of complexity, trading off capacity for ease of use might be useful?”

“That would drastically increase the complexity of the interface…” Armsmaster nodded. “But that is an excellent suggestion. I’ll look into it. But now, as Dragon has reminded me…”

My stomach chose that moment to grumble, and I tried not to blush.

“There will be a van to take you back to the PRT HQ on the Bay and from there you can return home.”

“Thank you.” I nodded, noticing that Dragon shook her head and gave me an apologetic look. I nodded, and left the room, my escort waiting for me. I was wondering if I should eat at home or grab something.

I was still considering that when I changed into my civilian clothes in the special changing room the PRT had for their own parahumans. Nobody was watching “technically” respecting my identity. I was hungry and a little tired and it wasn’t like I didn’t have—

“So, you come up with a doomsday bomb yet?” A Number said as it appeared behind me.

“No, but I did help ensure that no bus will be late to school ever again.”

“What—call an MS alert! She’s been controlled! No student would do such a terrible thing!”  With that, the Number put its hands to its head and leaned back theatrically. “I may faint!”

“Your numbers don’t feel pain.”

“Don’t be… powerist?” The Number said, and then with a twist, Aisha was standing there. “I am here, civilian victim, to save you from the slave driving Armsmaster.”

“Save me?”

“Yeah, Bro and I were just happening to go out to eat, and we heard about your new part-time job and so…”

“Hello, Taylor,” Brian said.

“We can have a date with me as the responsible chaperone.”  Aisha said.

I looked at Brian, he looked at me. Then he shook his head. “We can’t run. Her Numbers are faster than you and can see through my shadows.”

“Ah.”

“Be happy, though.”

“Why?”

“She was planning on rigging up a Number-carried sedan litter.”

I stared at Brian, then at Aisha, who looked elaborately innocent.

“So,” I said, “where are we eating?”