“He just got home,” Anne told me as we sat at the dinner table.

“I’m still against this idea,” grumbled Paul. “Spying on a public servant is not how you should be using your powers.”

“Chill, Dad, it’s only for a few days. Besides, we need to solve the mystery of the ‘Hidden’ faction.”

“If you see anything personal, you will shut off the feed,” warned Paul.

“Jeez, Dad, I’ve been tracking the mayor for one day, that’s it. Chill.”

“You are not to spy on people’s private lives, Anne.”

“Fine, fine. Can we eat now?”

Paul shot me an aggrieved look. “Andrew. Soup.”

Wordlessly, I served the soup.

Paul had been less than pleased to discover I’d set nanobot spies on Mayor Aldiss. I suspected he didn’t want to expose Anne to any sordid scandals that might involve the Mayor. The kind that involved, say, consenting adults doing what adults are likely to do in private, away from an audience and nosy reporters.

It was for the same reason that our TV and video feed had an age-appropriate content filter.

: You’ll disconnect if you find yourself seeing something you shouldn’t, right?

: You do remember that you made me spy on the whole block during my first few weeks, right?

: So?

: So, I saw plenty of stuff that I didn’t tell you about.

: Drat.

: Relax and let’s just indulge Dad for a bit.

“So they tested the mass drivers today,” I said. “They’ve mounted them on Hummers and the guns pack quite a punch.”

“Did Frasier have anything to say?”

“He seemed happy. Also, they’ve paid for the first ten, so I have money again.”

“Just ten?”

“Uh… well, apparently they only pay for twenty per cent of the consignment on delivery, and the rest gets processed over time.”

“You need to read your contracts properly, young man. They pay you twenty per cent of the total value on delivery, forty per cent after testing, and the remaining forty percent after three months. You’re not getting paid for ten rifles, you’re getting paid twenty percent of the value of fifty rifles.”

“What’s the difference?”

Paul rolled his eyes. “Never mind. Anyway, once they’ve passed testing, you can collect another four hundred thousand dollars. I’ll write a letter for you to give your lawyers to draft, and you have that sent to Frasier - he’ll know how to deal with it.”

“Uh, guys?” interrupted Anne. “I think I’ve figured out Aldiss.”

“You have?” we both exclaimed.

“Yeah. He opened up a drawer with some machinery inside.”

“That hardly sounds surprising.”

“Floating machinery. Hovering by itself in mid-air.”

“Oh.”

“So, he’s an inventor. A secret inventor.”

“And that means he’s probably his own faction,” Paul pointed out.

"Which also means he could have countermeasures against spy drones..."

“You need to drop the surveillance, now.”

“Already dropping it. The nanobots are being recalled.”

“That’s why his faction is ‘hidden’,” I realized. “And will be, until he reveals himself to the world.”

“That explains some things,” mused Paul. “Although he’s the last person I’d have suspected of being an inventor.”

“That’s part of what ultrahuman secret identities are, Dad. They’re always the last people you’d suspect, right?”

“Could he be Grumman?” I wondered.

“Not possible. Grumman’s been seen in public at the same time as Aldiss giving a speech. So now, we’re going to lay off the spying and let the man keep his secrets. Understood?”

“Understood.”

“Understood, Dad. Oh, do we have any unsliced bread?”

“Sure. You want bread.”

“I want a loaf of whole bread for a demonstration.”

“I’ll get it,” I said. “I’ve been wanting to test out something…”

I activated Levitate.

The Canyon Bakehouse loaf sitting on the shelf hovered in mid-air, then gently drifted in our general direction.

Paul sighed. “This isn’t going to fall and splat on the table, is it?”

“Bread doesn’t splat, and I have plenty of MP left. Hang on…” The bread gently drifted down and settled onto the plate. “Neat trick, right?”

“Very neat, if you want to dip into your limited MP pool during combat for stuff like this.”

“It opens up tactical options.”

“Which ones?”

“Not sure yet....”

“Ahem. Dad, Andrew, time for my demo.”

We both nodded. “Go ahead.”

“Watch this.” A thin line of nanobots materialized in mid-air. Or rather, turned visible.

The nanobots formed themselves into a sharp needle, then plunged downward towards the bread. Gently, they began to slice through it.

First one, then another, then a third slice was cut via Anne’s impromptu knife. Finally, the needle-thin spike floated upwards, then dissipated.

“That’s impressive,” I said. “And practical. You could slice through Sarnak throats with that.”

“Exactly what I had in mind.”

Paul looked a little green. “What happens if you slip and cut something you didn’t intend to?”

“I’ve been working on my control. You’ll note the bread is sliced and not the plate.”

“You could cut through the plate with that?”

“I can cut through walls with it, actually.”

I frowned. “Your nanobots aren’t that strong. At least, they weren’t when we started. Did you gain a level.”

“Well, that’s sort of something I want to talk to you about. I’ve been making the bots out of standard materials - glass, metal, plastic, stuff like that. That’s why they don’t have much by way of punch.

“So I kind of made these bots out of fullersteel.”

I grinned. “Well, you should have told me. You need more of the stuff?”

“Absolutely. Can I get maybe ten kilos? I want to create enough bots to act as a weapon if needed. Or, well, lots of weapons.”

“Sure, no problem. Can you make them on the fly?”

Anne shook her head. “The fullersteel ones take a lot more time to create. So I thought I’d make a batch of them, then carry them in a container to London.”

“You need to be very, very careful with these,” cautioned Paul. “Rogue nanotechnology is something people take seriously.”

“They’re not rogue. They can’t self-replicate.”

“That’s good,” I joked, “because you’re too young to be a grandparent.”

Anne giggled. “I guess the bots are like my babies, right?”

“Please don’t say that,” Paul sighed. “I’d like to see you have normal, human babies someday. In the fullness of time. After you’re married. Many, many years from now.”

“Sure, Dad, whatever you say.”