Changing out of our costumes together took quite a bit longer than it would have, if we had done so separately but neither of us was terribly worried about time. We moved through one of the many secret passages into the complicated United Nations Building, using it’s maze-like structure to hide just where we had been coming from. It was more out of habit than serious need but there were procedures to be followed, even if there was little actual danger.

The air outside was still hot and rather humid, even as a soft breeze brought fresher air from the ocean, letting me breathe easier. I missed my climate-controlled costume nonetheless, even if I had made some advances using the nanites inhabiting my body, improving on my bodies handling of unpleasant temperatures. Hopefully, the weather would become less muggy, once the month changed to June, in just three days. Improving the nanites had been one of the biggest projects I had worked on during the last few months and there had been some surprising developments.

A little over a month ago, Galatea and I had noticed that our connection had improved gradually, allowing us to communicate with a higher bandwidth, for lack of better words, especially my accessing to the computer-systems Galatea had direct access to. It was a little strange, that I seemed to be able to directly query them, almost on an instinctive level, without formulating my queries in a format they could understand. It should be impossible but reality was apparently of a different opinion, something that fascinated both Galatea and me.

So we did what every good scientist should do, when faced with an unexplained observation, we started to investigate. Investigating was a little difficult, it was my brain we were talking about after all, but with a lot of effort, improved programming for a batch of nanites and a newly designed interface to direct them with incredible precision, we had been able to get a very high-resolution scan of my brain, without damaging anything but some of my hair. And the findings made me a little annoyed at my educational weak point, biology.

What we had found was that, somehow, my brain had started to actively incorporate individual nanites, forming something similar to synapses and directly interfacing with them. Part of me wanted to show my findings to something else, something with a better education in neurology but there was no way I was giving that kind of information out to anyone I did not trust fully. It had taken some persuasion from Galatea to show the results to Technica, who had a little more education in biological topics but that little more had not resulted in better ideas.

We had decided to keep an eye on things, even if none of us had an idea what to do with the things we might see. Especially as I was completely unwilling to give up the nanites within my body, even if we found a way to allow me to walk without them. I enjoyed my increased physical capabilities and the idea of separating from Galatea was unthinkable. She had become part of me, a comforting presence always in the back of my mind, a friend and confidante that listened to even my darkest thoughts, without prejudgement or miscommunications. I could rely on her to give me a honest opinion, on anything, even if I might not want to hear her conclusions. No, I would rather give up my body than the connection with Galatea.

“What’s got you so deep in thought?” Sophia asked, noticing my behaviour.

“Just thinking about the last few months.” I admitted, not quite wanting to tell her about my slightly dark and morbid thoughts.

“You mean the Black Brassards?” she asked in return, making me scowl. It was a perfect example of the law of unintended consequences, or maybe a masterclass in public manipulation and misinformation. Some nine months ago, when I shot Clark, I had not really considered what it would mean or how it would be perceived.

Not that I really would have acted all that differently, not without some way to reliably take him out. And it was the reliability-part that even now would be difficult, simply due to lack of information. Experiments, with fully informed consent, on Sophia had revealed that my Nanites were unable to interact in a meaningful way with a Powered that had increased durability, not only was their skin simply too tough to penetrate, something inside them, some bio-electric field or something like that, was playing merry hell with the nanites and their external connection. Otherwise, there would be a myriad of ways to use nanites to assassinate someone. Not that either of the women in my life liked take about that, even Galatea was not too happy with the idea.

But back to Clark and his inglorious death at the hand of a dastardly deadly sniper, namely myself. His mother had barely waited for his body to cool before calling a press-conference and painting herself as the grieving mother who was now taking up the torch raised by her son. Using his bloody shirt as a flag, she had used the general feelings of compassion, combined with a healthy dose of misinformation and the judicious application of money to catapult herself into the political limelight.

From a generally little known socialite, at least little known if you were lacking the money to move in her circles, to a popular and populist political speaker with ambitions for power, almost overnight. Maybe I should have sent one projectile her way, turning her into collateral damage but that ship had sailed, I had no doubt that her death, even if looking like a total accident, would be used by others to further her agenda. An agenda I disliked intensely, partially because of the very conservative and religious undertones, combined with a promotion of xenophobia in a very literal definition, aimed at both foreigners and, to a greater extent, Powered. It was, at times, quite impressive how she managed to weave those ideas into a greater framework, all the while invoking the specter of conflicts of bygone eras, at least if they served her narrative.

“Yes, the situation worries me. Remember the facility we raided almost two years ago? I tried to use the information we found, trying to shed light on the Greene’s subversive dealings and was quickly silenced and discredited. And now they have an even better weapon against me, if I tried now, they would just bludgeon me with Clark’s Gravestone. Even in death, that guy continues to cause me trouble.” I grumbled, feeling annoyed that I had no idea how to handle the problem. People, especially large groups of them, were messy, chaotic and illogical.

“You talked to Technica about it didn’t you?” Sophia asked, after improving my mood with a very nice kiss.

“Yes, it was one of the first important conversations we had but her hands are tied even worse than mine, due to her position. If the Guild were to try shutting down a politician openly advocating against it, the optics would be horrible. Hopefully, the European people realise just what she is trying to do and send her packing.” I told her, the last words spoken with an eyeroll, as I had little confidence in the democratic process, especially with professional spinmasters making sure that the information presented to a vast majority was carefully selected and curated, for maximum effect.

“Yeah, I can see that. People would see it as confirmation that Mrs. Greene is onto something, that the powers that be want to shut her down.” she agreed, before shaking her head, as if trying to cleanse it from the idea.

“Anyway, let’s talk about something else, anything, really. both of us have worked hard during the week, even if you don’t need to study a whole lot, I do. But you made up for it by burying yourself in the workshop most days.” she said, her voice just a little annoyed at the idea that studying was a thing of the past for me. Oh, I needed to engage with the things I was learning but a combination of a virtually eidetic memory, or a virtual eidetic memory, courtesy of Galatea who could simply store information within the distributed nanite network within me and her computational powers meant that I had a massive leg up. When taken in concert with my already above-average cognitive abilities meant I had little difficulty, as long as I did the necessary work.

Knowing that telling her I had mostly played around in the lab, experimenting with fanciful projects while trying to make the first, fundamental step in my research into powers, would only annoy her, I kept quiet, instead giving her a kiss and asking what we should have for dinner.