Chapter One Hundred and Forty-Seven: Ultrahumans, The Gathering (Patreon)

The sign outside the O2 Arena proudly proclaimed the event of the day in thirty-foot tall letters:

WELCOME TO THE FIRST ULTRAHUMAN CONVENTION

It was meant to be a gathering for the most powerful, the most recognized, and the most famous ultrahumans in the world. A place to make connections, discuss tactics, and possibly form new teams - teams capable of taking the fight to the aliens.

There was a reason that such a convention had never been done before. Outside of alien defenses, ultrahumans were a prickly, prideful lot. And this was before you added in the threat of some ultra-powerful Master turning a convention into a recruiting ground, or a spiteful Elemental just deciding to trigger a quake or set the place on fire….

I’d made the tiny error of suggesting to Pemberley that, perhaps, I could try mediating peacefully between some of the rival groups during the convention. She’d given me a sharp look and said two words: “Grunters. Blackhats.”

Yeah, I’m not exactly a shining example for nonviolent resolution….

Still, even if we eliminated inviting those who would shoot each other at sight - which was a depressingly large number - there were still upwards of ten thousand ultrahumans descending on London for what promised to be a massive, epic, three-day party.

And binge drinking session.

And gastronomic exploration session. Seriously, they got the chefs from Taj St. James Court to design the menu and some of the finalists from the last ten years of Masterchef United Kingdom to showcase their best dishes. Including a special ‘surprise’ dish designed by the winner of the Gordon Ramsay award….

My mouth was salivating and my Cooking skill was tingling. I wondered for a second if I could use Reverse Engineering on dishes… after all, wasn’t cooking a technology by itself?

COMPLEX AND ADVANCED DISHES MAY BE REVERSE ENGINEERED, BUT EACH RECIPE REQUIRES AN APPROPRIATE LEVEL OF COOKING SKILL TO SYNTHESIZE. COOKING SKILL LEVEL 10 IS TOO LOW FOR MASTERCHEF DISHES. ACHIEVE LEVEL 25 TO ATTEMPT THEM.

UNTIL THEN, STICK TO HOME COOKING.

Resolving quietly to work on levelling Cooking when I got the chance, I stepped forward into the convention centre.

I was in Boar Armor for this. Recognizable enough, and tough enough to hold off a surprise Grunter attack. This version also had a nice little container supplied by Anne on the back - one with all the nanobots she needed to quietly monitor the convention.

The registration desk had a video of the King playing on loop, welcoming all to the Ultrahuman Convention.

“It is my fervent hope,” the monarch was saying, “that events such as these will help to build bridges of trust between the individuals who contribute to our planet’s security, and help to strengthen the bond of brotherhood between nations united in this common goal.”

The reception clerk was a bright and cheery young lady who gasped as I walked up. “You’re Belessar…. sorry, sir. Let me get you your badge please.”

“Am I that recognizable?” I joked.

The girl nodded. “I’m from Liverpool, sir. Thank you for … well, everything.”

“You’re welcome,” I replied. “How’s the convention going?”

“It’s amazing. There’s hundreds of heroes showing up already, and it’s only the first day!” She handed me a badge with a glittery gold colour. “You’re an, um, distinguished delegate. This gives you access to virtually every place in the convention except the backstage areas.”

“Are there different types of delegates?”

“Yes, there’s honorary, distinguished, international, diplomatic, and exhibitor. The exhibitors are mostly inventors who’re planning to sell their products… Sorry, do you want an exhibitor badge too?”

“No, thanks. Although if there’s an area where the exhibitors are clustered, I would want to visit that.”

“There’s a map in your welcome kit along with the badge.”

<Nanocloud>: I think she likes you.

<Belessar>: Shut up. She’s probably just a fan,

<Nanocloud>: Oh yeeahh. I know just what kind of fan she is…

<Belessar>: Nanocloud! Get your mind out of the gutter and give me some overwatch.

<Nanocloud>: Fine, you spoilsport. Go wander around the place. My bots will disperse as you walk.

I meandered through the convention for the next half hour, spreading the drones.

Pavilions on each side seemed ordered haphazardly, with inventors, masters, precogs, savants, shifters and elementals mixed up. I knew it was by design, but I couldn’t figure out what patterns Pemberley - or the SURGE high command - were aiming for.

<Nanocloud>: Love the colour scheme. You should tell Pemberley they’ve achieved absolute randomness.

<Belessar>: Why don’t you tell her yourself?

<Nanocloud>: Because Dad and I aren’t supposed to be in London, duh. Anyway, we’re busy checking out Trafalgar square now, so you go enjoy yourself. Don’t forget, you’re meeting us for dinner in Soho.

<Belessar>: Have you picked a place yet?

<Nanocloud>: We’ll figure it out. Now shush. Don’t be late for your meeting.

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The convention had its fair share of non-ultrahuman visitors. Some were tourists and families out for fun, but the vast majority appeared to be corporate scouts of one type or another. Men and women in suits, T-shirts and bomber jackets were crowding the various booths, animatedly discussing nuances of an ultrahuman’s power with the wielder of those powers.

I caught snatches of conversation:

“... yes, I can in fact remove sand as well as create it…”

“... the biochemical balance would not support those transformations…”

“... no, that’s not something I would be comfortable with, gentlemen. Please step back…”

Trouble?

I headed for the third voice.

Two elderly men in suits were staring, hard-eyed, at a youngster who seemed to shrink back from their gaze.

“Any problems, gentlemen?” I inquired mildly.

Eyes swiveled in my direction. One of the older men smiled. “Mr. Belessar! A pleasure to meet you. We were just having a conversation with Mr. Mirantibus, here, about a potential business opportunity.”

I turned to the youngster. “Mirantibus? I’m Belessar. Nice to meet you.”

The young man - dressed in a purple robe and a matching domino mask, of all things - cracked a brittle smile. “I t-told them I wasn’t interested.”

“We didn’t mean any harm,” responded the suited gentleman. “I’m Dr. Frank Lessing, chair of the department of pediatric psychiatristry at St. Mary’s Hospital. This is my colleague, Dr. Hassenbach.”

… two doctors scared an ultra? “Nice to meet you, too. Mind if I have a quick word with Mirantibus?”

“M-my powers are mind control,” squeaked the kid.

A Master? I quickly ran an Observe across him.

MIRANTIBUS

CLASS: MASTER

LEVEL 4

HP 85/85

APPEARING IN COSTUME FOR THE FIRST TIME IN HIS LIFE, MIRANTIBUS IS A TEENAGER WHO CAN’T WAIT TO BE AN ADULT. HE CAN REMOVE SLICES OF MEMORY FROM PEOPLE’S MINDS AND REPLACE THEM WITH ARTIFICIALLY CONSTRUCTED MEMORIES. HOWEVER, HE CANNOT RECALL THE DETAILS OF THE MEMORIES HE REMOVES, OTHER THAN A RAW EMOTIONAL IMPRESSION.

THE FEW TIMES HE’S USED HIS POWER IN THE PAST HAVE BEEN JARRING AND SCARY, SO HE’S REALLY HOPING FOR SOMEONE WHO CAN GUIDE HIM THROUGH TO A MORE EFFECTIVE USE OF HIS SKILLS.

SKILL: MIND EDITOR LEVEL 8.

Mirantibus’s power would make him an excellent infiltrator. Of course, looking at the kid - and how the prospect of facing down two middle-aged doctors seemed to terrify him - it was obvious the rest of him wasn’t suited for the job.

“We’re asking for the children,” Dr. Lessing said gently. “It’s really hard on them.”

“If you don’t mind, gentlemen,” I interrupted, “could you explain your business proposition to me?”

Hassenbach spoke up. “Our patients include a number of children who have had deeply traumatic experiences. Murder witnesses, orphans, victims of domestic violence or child abuse. Generally, therapy helps to bring them to a state of sanity; however, the memory of the actual event acts as a deeply disturbing trigger.”

“We were hoping,” Lessing continued, “that Mr. Mirantibus would be amenable to working with some of the worst affected children and removing the memories of the specific traumatic event. Only in cases where the guardian agrees, of course. It would save many of them a great deal of pain.”

I winced.

Dealing with children would be hard for Mirantibus - partly because he himself wasn’t more than a child. Unfortunately, the robe and mask made him look a lot older…

And removing a memory left an imprint on his mind. An imprint shaped by the type of memory removed….

“Gentlemen,” I said gently. “I know you mean well. Unfortunately, I don’t believe Mirantibus’ abilities are suited to what you need.”

“He could help a lot of children.”

“Mirantibus - how do you feel after you remove someone’s memory?”

The Master gulped. “Er… I get headaches. Sometimes I feel sad, sometimes lonely, sometimes happy.”

“Gentlemen. The memory he edits out leaves a scar on his mind similar to the emotional impact of the memory.”

“It does?” Mirantibus blurted.

Dr. Lessing’s face had gone white. “Oh. I’m sorry, we did not realise that... Mr. Mirantibus, please accept our apologies.”

“Er… that’s fine. I, um, I didn’t know that was what was happening… Mr. Belessar?”

“Just Belessar,” I sighed. “Pro tip for everyone: you don’t affix ‘mister’ in front of an ultra’s name unless it’s actually part of the name. Our names are supposed to be titles in themselves.”

“I didn’t know that,” Dr. Lessing said. “Again, our apologies.”

“I didn’t know that either,” Mirantibus commented. “Or the thing about the emotional, um, imprint.”

“If you don’t mind my asking, Belessar,” asked Hassenbach, “how did you, er, know about Mirantibus’ … power limitation?”

“I have a fair bit of experience in assessing powers, Doctor. Might I suggest you try Arach Lomagh instead? She’s possibly a better fit for what you need done.”

The two doctors glanced at each other, then nodded in unison. “We’ll do that. Thank you, Belessar.”

As they left, I turned to Mirantibus. “First time?”

“How’d you know?”

“Superpowers.”

The kid deflated. “Yeah. I used to think my power was awesome. So far it’s gotten me nothing but headaches. Can’t even make any money off it.”

“That’s because you’re using it to remove thoughts with high emotional content. Use it to remove neutral thoughts - concepts, for example - and you could do well.”

“What’ll I use it for? I don’t want to be a villain.”

“For people who want to experience a great movie again, like it was new? You could remove their memories of the movie. Or, if scientists want to study how people learn under different circumstances, you could help them by having a volunteer learn the same concept a dozen times, and removing it after each session. Time the sessions to help educators design optimal learning conditions.”

The boy looked crestfallen. “I never thought of that.”

“There’s peaceful - and not-so-peaceful - applications for every power. Give it a shot.”

“Thanks! I’ll do that. I don’t know how I can repay you…”

“You could point me to Jimmy’s. I’m meeting someone there for lunch.”

“Sure! It’s right around the corner! Say, are you meeting someone special? Aren’t you dating Agni?”

“Kid.” I fixed him with a mock-stare. “Do you really want to be asking me about my private life?”

The teen gulped. “Right. Take a right at the Fangoyle pavilion and head straight about five minutes…”