I, Panacea (Worm SI Fanfic)

[Aleh]

Such are the 'training' standards and cultural conditionings of the typical American police department?

Click to shrink...

These were apparently dirty cops with Empire sympathies. What on Earth makes you think it's supposed to be typical?

 

[Death by Chains]

These were apparently dirty cops with Empire sympathies. What on Earth makes you think it's supposed to be typical?

Click to shrink...

That's Michael's guess, or possibly a hope, not supported by anything in the text. Notice how not two lines later, he references 'driving while black'? That's a real phenomenon — cops (mostly white) pulling over non-white drivers on 'reasonable suspicion'. It generally doesn't end well.

Please, watch the following video, and then read the comments section. In particular, remarks by Stacey C, deadcelebrity, and Jim Dutton on the first page alone are notably insightful.

 

[Aleh]

That's Michael's guess, or possibly a hope, not supported by anything in the text. Notice how not two lines later, he references 'driving while black'? That's a real phenomenon — cops (mostly white) pulling over non-white drivers on 'reasonable suspicion'. It generally doesn't end well.

Click to shrink...

Yes. It is. It's also quite documented that it only takes a few dirty or racist cops to create that phenomenon and associated experiences in the areas they police.

The depiction here was notably egregious... but this discussion could rapidly get into Rule 8 territory if it hasn't already.

 

[SlickRCBD]

I don't get why Amy didn't think about calling out, or at least trying to keep the rest of the Undersiders from escalating when that happened.
She could still call 911 and report the situation.
She could just say she was seeing her friend Taylor and hanging out with some other friends when it got late and Taylor's boyfriend offered to drive her home, then some racist cops pulled them over and assaulted them.

She's Panacea, the media would listen to her. As unfair as it is, the word of a celebrity like Pancea carries more weight and credibility than a passenger van full of nobodies, especially if they are teenagers.

It almost felt like an example of "Conflict for the Conflict Drive. Data For Shards!", which was just talked about at the start of the chapter and Ack might point out how it could have been handled better and it could have been shard influence that made things escalate.

 

[Ack]

I don't get why Amy didn't think about calling out, or at least trying to keep the rest of the Undersiders from escalating when that happened.
She could still call 911 and report the situation.
She could just say she was seeing her friend Taylor and hanging out with some other friends when it got late and Taylor's boyfriend offered to drive her home, then some racist cops pulled them over and assaulted them.

She's Panacea, the media would listen to her. As unfair as it is, the word of a celebrity like Pancea carries more weight and credibility than a passenger van full of nobodies, especially if they are teenagers.

It almost felt like an example of "Conflict for the Conflict Drive. Data For Shards!", which was just talked about at the start of the chapter and Ack might point out how it could have been handled better and it could have been shard influence that made things escalate.

Click to shrink...

Mainly because people would want to talk to Brian after that.

And Brian don't want to talk to nobody about nuthin'.

 

[demonitter]

Two white cops end up shooting a black teenager, simply because he... started to get out of his car? In response to his passenger being needlessly manhandled by one of the cops? And I'll bet anything you like that absent the arrival of the other Undersiders, the police-report on Brian's death would've said something like "Officers-on-scene were in immediate fear for their safety and applied reasonable force to neutralise the imminent threat(s)."

Such are the 'training' standards and cultural conditionings of the typical American police department?

The average American grunt on the streets of Baghdad or Fallujah had to obey more stringent use-of-force protocols and stricter rules-of-engagement, and for the most part did, in an active war-zone. They would, can, have, and do often puke their guts out at seeing police forces in their own country perpetrating this sort of trigger-happy bullshit on a regular basis.

This shit might be 'routine' on US streets. That does not make it right. American law-enforcement training-standards and culture need to be grossly overhauled, ASAP, and in a way that sticks.

It's shit like this that makes me thank a God I'm not sure I believe in for the fact that I live in New Zealand, where police are prohibited by law from carrying firearms unless they are specifically responding to a confirmed 'armed offender' call.

Click to shrink...

´
It's more funny when the cops are black too and still as trigger happy.

 

[SlickRCBD]

Two white cops end up shooting a black teenager, simply because he... started to get out of his car? In response to his passenger being needlessly manhandled by one of the cops? And I'll bet anything you like that absent the arrival of the other Undersiders, the police-report on Brian's death would've said something like "Officers-on-scene were in immediate fear for their safety and applied reasonable force to neutralise the imminent threat(s)."

Such are the 'training' standards and cultural conditionings of the typical American police department?

The average American grunt on the streets of Baghdad or Fallujah had to obey more stringent use-of-force protocols and stricter rules-of-engagement, and for the most part did, in an active war-zone. They would, can, have, and do often puke their guts out at seeing police forces in their own country perpetrating this sort of trigger-happy bullshit on a regular basis.

This shit might be 'routine' on US streets. That does not make it right. American law-enforcement training-standards and culture need to be grossly overhauled, ASAP, and in a way that sticks.

It's shit like this that makes me thank a God I'm not sure I believe in for the fact that I live in New Zealand, where police are prohibited by law from carrying firearms unless they are specifically responding to a confirmed 'armed offender' call.

Click to shrink...

Cops used to get away with it, but that is the major reason why they started wearing body cameras.
Unfortunately, in the past there were even laws against private citizens recording police officers at such traffic stops. It might not have been what the anti-eavesdropping laws intended, but it was how it was used. Thus the cops could be assured that it was the perp's word against theirs, and even if the guy had a secret recording, the evidence would not be admissible in court to use against the cops since it was an illegal recording, but it could be used in court to prosecute the person driving while black for violating the eavesdropping law. It couldn't usually be used as evidence for anything else except prosecuting people who made the recording without consent unless all parties agreed (and obviously the party whose case it would hurt would not agree), but the person who made the recording was presumed to have already agreed under the law, hence it being fair game to use against him.

Sorry about the tangent about recording. This is why so many communities pushed for requiring police to wear body cameras. Because of all the shootings like this. The citizens were fed up with contested cases where a passenger or wounded victim told a different story from the cops and wanted something to be done.

The main problem with doing something about it is that it comes down to the cops' word against the person in the car. How do you tell who is lying and who is telling the truth? How does a cop defend himself against an aggressive perp who later claims the cops attacked him unprovoked? How does the person who was pulled over for "driving while black" and brutalized prove that he wasn't doing anything to deserve getting that beating? That he pulled over, provided the license and registration and was told to get out of the car, only to get beaten up while the cop and his partner claim up and down he attacked them and wouldn't submit? Whose lying?

Hence how the cops used to get away with it. Riots have started over this when it comes to light some bystander has secretly videotaped it and leaked the tape anonymously to the press.
There was some unrest in Chicago recently over some officers that pulled something like this, most have been convicted.

I'm not going to go into much more detail as it would start to touch on politics. Note that most of my knowledge comes from Illinois law, specifically in Cook County (where Chicago is).

 

[Death by Chains]

Hence how the cops used to get away with it. Riots have started over this when it comes to light some bystander has secretly videotaped it and leaked the tape anonymously to the press.

Click to shrink...

I was in high school when the Rodney King thing blew up in LAPD's face. Naïf that I was back then, I thought it was a gross aberration, or at worst a wake-up call....

 

[Ack]

Cops used to get away with it, but that is the major reason why they started wearing body cameras.

Click to shrink...

Which have apparently shown an amazing tendency toward failing or being accidentally wiped when something comes up where a cop might be at fault. /s

I've heard of cases where a defending attorney had to literally sue the police department to force them to produce body cam footage that might exonerate their client, or even admit the existence of such footage.

 

[Zackarix]

The main problem with doing something about it is that it comes down to the cops' word against the person in the car. How do you tell who is lying and who is telling the truth? How does a cop defend himself against an aggressive perp who later claims the cops attacked him unprovoked? How does the person who was pulled over for "driving while black" and brutalized prove that he wasn't doing anything to deserve getting that beating? That he pulled over, provided the license and registration and was told to get out of the car, only to get beaten up while the cop and his partner claim up and down he attacked them and wouldn't submit? Whose lying?

Click to shrink...

The old-fashioned way of dealing with this problem was to give the cop the benefit of the doubt and give his testimony more weight. After all, he's a fine upstanding member of the community while the other guy is probably a thug who's lying to get out of trouble. As the invention of easily transportable recoding devices has shown, this assumption is wrong.

 

[nick012000]

Ironically, I think that this might be an area where the world of Worm is actually better than our world, thanks to Cauldron promoting gun control and cracking down on gun violence in general, since they don't want capes getting shot to death by cops.

The PRT are all canonically all armed with rubber bullets, for instance (unless they're fighting a Brute), and I would not be surprised if Contessa managed to ram through a law mandating that all law enforcement officers were obligated to do so. She canonically has rammed through other gun control laws.

 

[SlickRCBD]

Which have apparently shown an amazing tendency toward failing or being accidentally wiped when something comes up where a cop might be at fault. /s

I've heard of cases where a defending attorney had to literally sue the police department to force them to produce body cam footage that might exonerate their client, or even admit the existence of such footage.

Click to shrink...

From reading the Daily Herald, that seems to be true, but it's a step in the right direction. So was striking down the law which was being abused by the police to prevent their misdeed from being recorded.

 

[Ack]

I, Panacea

Part Twenty-Eight: Mind Games

[A/N 1: This chapter beta-read by Lady Columbine of Mystal.]

[A/N 2: Apologies for not putting out a chapter mid-February, but I've been swamped with work commitments, plus my amazing beta and I are in the final stages of editing the second novel in the Utopian Dreams series, Shadows Over Utopia. Current projected publication date, June or July, woo!]

[A/N 3: So much writing, so little time …]



Bonesaw

The complicated airlock-system they were using for Riley's cell clanged and clattered. She looked up, expecting yet another examination by someone wearing a hazmat suit, trying to get rid of all her built-in offensive systems. They hadn't gotten everything yet, though the multiple X-rays had found most of them.

"Bonesaw. Visitor." That was the bored-sounding guard who never moved from his hermetically sealed booth with its own air supply. If she acted out, it was his job to decide whether to fill the cell with pure nitrogen, containment foam or ten thousand volts of fuck-you. Screw-you, she corrected her own internal monologue. Just because she was a prisoner awaiting imminent execution didn't mean she had to let all her standards lapse.

It didn't matter whether she was standing or sitting when 'visitors' came into her cell. If they wanted her standing up, she would be standing up. If they wanted her sitting down, that was where she would be. It had been very thoroughly impressed on her that she had no rights, no agency and no hope for a future that involved freedom, or even living through the next few days.

Thus, as the inner door rumbled aside, admitting the wash of air into the under-pressure system in the cell, she didn't bother getting up or even turning to see who was going to be manhandling her this time. Whatever was going to happen, would happen. Seeing the gun before it put a bullet through her head wouldn't actually do her any good.

The inner door rumbled shut. Riley's inner ears twinged unpleasantly as the air pressure dropped again. She understood why the only air movement could be into the cell, and then out by way of a million types of filter, but she didn't have to enjoy it.

"Hello, Riley Grace."

Now, that was unusual. Slowly, she turned her head to make sure she wasn't hearing wrongly. The voice being unimpeded by any sort of breathing apparatus was one thing, but the fact that it was a teenage girl speaking was quite another. When she saw who it was—robes replaced by a disposable coverall, which did nothing to hide the newcomer's identity—her jaw honestly dropped.

"Panacea?" she blurted, totally forgetting how she should be aloof and unapproachable. "What are you doing here?"

The frizzy-haired brunette rolled her eyes and unfolded the chair she was carrying, then sat down on it. "Wasn't really my idea," she admitted. "This pushy asshole I met recently put the idea in my head, and he's not likely to give it up until I do something about it."

This was making less and less sense all the time. What also failed to make sense was Panacea's deportment. Riley was used to seeing her shrinking into the background in every social situation; this Panacea was more of a take-charge type, not to mention take-no-crap.

But there was more to it. Amy Dallon had a slight reddening around her eyes and was moving stiffly, as though she were tired or hurt. Riley's power kicked in, diagnosing a lack of sleep and bruising under her clothes, and wasn't that interesting.

"Pushy a-holes can be like that, I'm sure," she responded automatically. "Has the great and mighty Panacea been going out and fighting crime? I didn't know you were the type to mix it up on the street with common thugs."

The line had been more of a probe, to see how Panacea reacted than out of any belief it was true, but Panacea responded with a distinct twitch. "None of your business," she responded curtly. "Anyway, we're here to talk about you, not me."

"Me?" Channelling her inner Mr. Jack, Riley indicated herself with both hands spread over her chest. "I'm not interesting at all. Unless you've run into a medical problem you can't solve." She raised one eyebrow, a trick she'd spent hours working on in the mirror before she gave in and did the surgery that made it easy. "Which I find really unlikely."

Panacea set her lips in a scowl and folded her arms, clearly disliking the fact that she was on the back foot already. Then her expression shifted slightly and her eyes went unfocused for a second or so. Her lips moved briefly, as though she were arguing with herself. Watching with fascinated interest—what sort of mental issues would the world's greatest unsung healer have, after all?—Riley saw her scowl intensify as she nodded almost infinitesimally. Then her eyes came back into focus again, zeroing in on Riley.

"Pull your head in, Riley," she said bluntly. "You're in the shit, and you know it. More to the point, I know you, and you're not suicidal. Even with Jack Slash gone, you want to live. Now, we can make that happen, but only if you decide to work with me here. Pissing me off so I get up and walk out of this cell? That's not the way to do it." She unfolded her arms then clasped her hands in her lap, looking steadily at Riley. "So, you want to start again from the top?"

More than a little taken aback by the total change in approach—and where had Panacea gotten a weird phrase like 'pull your head in' from, anyway?—Riley blinked a few times. Something was definitely going on with Panacea; this was not the meek and mild healer that Mr. Jack had described as a pushover waiting to happen. Either she'd gone through some kind of life-altering experience and this was the result, or she'd had a mental break and nobody else knew about it. Because if they did, there was no way any responsible authority would allow a potentially unstable Panacea anywhere near a member of the Nine.

Which meant Riley absolutely wanted to see what happened next.

"Okay," she said. "We can do that. Hi, I'm Riley."

"Hi," responded Panacea. "I'm Amy." She extended her hand. "Pleased to meet you."

Which left Riley in (if she excused the expression) one hell of a bind. She knew exactly what Amy Dallon was capable of with a single touch, and no way did she want the healer running rampant through the offensive and defensive capabilities she still had implanted within her. But on the other hand, every instinct she had screamed that this was her best chance of getting out of this cell alive.

"I do not consent for you to use your powers on me," she said carefully. "You've got to abide by that, right?"

Amy raised her own eyebrows and snorted derisively. "I could lie, and say I wasn't going to do it. But we'd both know it was a lie. Do you honestly think you're ever going to walk out of this cell under your own power if I don't do this? More to the point, is there any circumstance you can think of right now where keeping your implants will allow you to live five minutes longer than without them?"

Riley considered that. There was no pretense going on here, no attempting to shade the truth. Panacea was laying down the facts as she saw them, and Riley honestly couldn't gainsay her on any of it.

But she did have one thing to say. "You said Jack Slash is gone. We both know he'll be back, and he'll be annoyed at what your friends have done to the Nine."

Panacea shook her head firmly. "You weren't listening. When I said he was gone, I meant gone. Deceased. Extinct. Shuffled off this mortal coil. Released into the Great Beyond. Cactus. D-E-D, dead."

"What? No." Riley blinked. "Nobody can kill Mr. Jack. I should know, I've been watching people try for the last six years." Cactus? she wondered. Where did that come from?

Even more oddly, Panacea wasn't showing any of the satisfaction and pleasure she should by rights have been feeling from saying that. In fact, she looked positively unhappy. "Not gonna say it was easy," she conceded. "Alexandria had to chase him all over America, but we finally pinned him down. Once she got her hands on him, it was all over."

This was making less and less sense all the time. 'All over America' suggested a pursuit longer than the few miles Mr. Jack could've managed on foot after the bus was destroyed. And from the way Panacea said 'we', she was implying more than a simple commonality of goals between herself and Alexandria. Is she saying she was there?

Riley shook her head. "I don't believe you. Nobody can sneak up on Mr. Jack. He's too smart for that."

Unexpectedly, Panacea smiled slightly, then her expression reverted to sourness. "Wrong on both counts. Capes couldn't sneak up on Jack Slash. This was because what gave him his power could talk to what gave them their powers, and give him all the information he needed to avoid their attacks. It wasn't him being smart; it was his power telling him which way to jump. He was a cheaty cheating cheater, that way."

"Mr. Jack never cheated!" Riley began automatically, then stopped when she realised what she was saying.

Panacea raised her eyebrows, her expression plainly dubious. "Really? Can you promise that, with your hand on your heart?"

Riley glared at her. She didn't want to admit that Mr. Jack would be so underhanded as to cheat when he talked so much about fair contests, but then there was the evidence … "How do you know so much about it, anyway? Have you ever studied capes like that? Mr. Jack says you pretend you can't affect brains, but you really can."

There was the slightest hint of a glance toward the guard station, then Panacea's expression firmed again. "Jack Slash lied about a lot of stuff. But can you think of a better reason that all those monsters he had in the Nine never even once tried to kill him in his sleep? Because I'm pretty sure it wasn't his charm and good looks." The frizzy-haired girl leaned closer. "And in fact, why do you think so many of them died taking hits for him? Choosing not to kill him is a totally different thought process from choosing to die for him. Just saying."

How does she know about that? Riley stared at Panacea. She wanted to contradict what the older girl was saying, but she remembered that exact thing happening. Chuckles had gone out that way, coming out of nowhere to throw himself between Mr. Jack and an enraged cape with a high-end Blaster power. Despite his durability, Chuckles had been immolated, but the respite had allowed the Siberian to get to Mr. Jack and make him invulnerable to further harm. Hatchet Face had killed the cape then, so the only people who knew about it now, if Panacea was telling the truth about Mr. Jack's death, were Riley and (apparently) Panacea.

"If Mr. Jack's dead, how did he die?" The challenge was posed as a matter of course. She knew precisely how hard to kill he'd been.

Panacea shrugged. "I disabled him, then Alexandria snapped his neck. I saw the reinforcement you had in there. It wouldn't have helped."

Riley wasn't about to argue about the durability of her reinforcements; if someone like Alexandria decided that she was going to snap Mr. Jack's neck, it was going to snap. Now that the Siberian was gone (and how had she achieved that?), the Triumvirate member was about the closest thing Riley knew to being an unstoppable force. But she had another challenge for Panacea. "How did you get close enough to disable him, if his power can talk to your power?"

"Ahh." Panacea smiled tightly and held up her finger. Riley got the impression she wasn't as happy as she was pretending to be. "Now you're asking the important questions. Very few people are cleared to know the answer to how I snuck up on him. The guards outside this cell? Not among them. So, if you want to learn how I did it, you need to be given the all-clear to leave this cell. And you know what that entails." She held out her hand, her eyebrows raised. "Your choice."

The whole conversation had been leading up to this; Riley could see that now. Panacea wanted her out of this cell … to do what? It couldn't be just to kill her; if Panacea wanted Riley dead, all she needed to do was wait a week. Riley's best guess was that Panacea wanted to talk to her about something out of prying earshot … but what? There wasn't a single, solitary thing she could think of that might interest Panacea.

Of course, this didn't mean such a subject didn't exist. Only that she had no idea which one Panacea wanted to talk about. And now she wanted to know what could make Panacea come to wherever it was she was being held, and pull whatever strings she had, just to visit her.

"If I do this, you have to tell me how you snuck up on him." She knew full-well that Panacea could make all the promises in the world and ignore them when the time came; also, that with Mr. Jack dead, the knowledge would do her exactly no good whatsoever. But whatever Panacea wanted to talk about was a bargaining chip of sorts, so she didn't think the healer would mess her around for funsies.

In any case, it wasn't like she had many better options, right now.

"Deal," agreed Panacea after perhaps half a second of introspective thought. "For all the good it'll do you."

"Yeah, yeah, I get that." Riley took a deep breath and put her hand in Panacea's.

For a moment, nothing happened. Then Panacea whistled softly. "Holy crap," she muttered, just loudly enough for Riley to hear. "I knew she was jacked up, but that's ridiculous."

Wait, she? Who's Panacea talking to?

Riley tried very hard to ask the question out loud, but her consciousness was already swirling down the drain. Before she could even make her mouth form the words, she was out to it.

<><>​

Panacea

Is it just me, observed Michael as Amy made one last check of Riley's physiology, or did she have more than her own body weight of stuff implanted in her?

That's closer to the truth than I'm comfortable with, she replied. If she focused her awareness on Michael, a 'window' opened in the back of her mind and she could 'see' him reclining at his ease in that armchair, watching the ongoing action on a wide-screen TV. There are more parts of her that she's operated on than otherwise. I mean, how does someone even do surgery on their own eyes?

In some bizarre mental dimension, Michael shrugged. One at a time?

Oh, ha ha. Very funny.

I thought so. He got up from the chair and stretched. So, what's the next step? Get her out and about and acclimatise her to people who aren't psychotic murderhobos?

Despite herself, Amy snorted with amusement. Murderhobos? Where the hell did you get that from? Because I am totally stealing it.

You've never heard it before? Damn. He shook his head as he poured himself a glass of water. It's a D&D term, though it fits basically any roleplaying system where wandering adventurers are a thing. Basically, people whose go-to on meeting someone new is 'I kill them and take their stuff'. Doesn't matter who it is. Friendly farmer? Kill them and take their stuff. Beggar in an alleyway? Kill him and take his stuff. You get the picture.

No, I hadn't heard of it before. Though I've heard of Dungeons and Dragons. I don't know anyone who plays it, though. Wasn't there a big Satanic scandal over it, way back when? People were trying to cast spells for real and sacrificing pets to dark forces and stuff?

His shaggy eyebrows rose as he sipped at his drink. Unless the history of Earth Bet before Scion is way different to what I think it is, ninety-nine percent of that is bullshit and one percent would be asshole players trolling the so-called moral guardians. The way I heard it, some teenager committed suicide because of reasons, and his mother found a D&D book in his room. She ignored the fact that his home life was shit, and he was being bullied at school, and blamed D&D for everything.

Oh. Wow. What happened?

It was his turn to snort in amusement. What do you think? The harder they tried to suppress it, the more avidly people took it up. Ironically, it only began to wane in popularity after the lies about it were all debunked and it was generally accepted as a fun way to spend a Saturday evening. Then it got bought up by a toy company, and picked up in popularity again by being marketed as only a toy company can.

Okay. And you used to play this game?

Now he laughed out loud and rolled his eyes. Used to? Kiddo, I've got dice older than you. Time was, just a few years ago, I'd be gaming five nights a week. Anyway, this isn't getting stuff done. Who did you want to acclimatise her with first?

That was something Amy was still working on. Lisa had given her a lot of good advice, but successfully carrying it out wasn't an absolute guarantee. Not sure. Any suggestions?

The Undersiders. He grinned evilly. I want to see the look on Lisa's face.

You know she isn't likely to react well to that. Neither is Brian. Or Rachel. Amy decided to leave Alec out of it; he'd be just as likely to hand Riley a controller.

No, true. Michael seemed to be mulling that over. Okay, not joking this time. We introduce her to Taylor. There's nothing Riley can do to her that Taylor can't do back, ten times worse.

Are you sure? Taylor's self-possessed to the point that I can't tell if she's more likely to ignore Riley or smother her with bugs.

Sure I'm sure. Taylor doesn't usually go into all-out murder rage unless you've killed someone near and dear to her, and Bonesaw never got close to Danny, so we should be fine. Besides, if she does go giga-swarm, we can always Doorway Riley the heck out of there.

True. Michael's reassurance steadied Amy somewhat. She wondered when and how he'd ever seen Taylor in an all-out murder rage, and who'd been killed to make that happen. Okay, I'm gonna wake her up and give her the good news.

Don't expect her to be all rainbows and sunshine about it, at least in the beginning. She can be a little goblin if she wants. Give her time to decide it's her idea to play along.

Ah, right. So, treat her like Vicky first thing in the morning, and we should be fine.

He burst into uproarious laughter, collapsing into the armchair. Oh, that's beautiful. I love it.

Amy smirked. I still love my sister, but I'm realistic about her too. She reached down and made contact with Riley's skin, moving her state from 'deeply unconscious' to 'light doze'. Then she shook Riley by the shoulder. "Wakey, wakey. All done."

Riley returned to full awareness in a remarkably short time, eyes flicking open and darting around the cell before she sat up. "That took a bit longer than I expected. What did you implant?"

Amy bristled, but Michael's calming influence held her back from snapping at Riley. Right. Little goblin. Gotcha. She smiled briefly and shook her head. "I'm afraid you're mistaken. I just took out everything that wasn't original issue, and reversed a few of your self-surgeries. Nothing went back in."

She watched as Riley's eyes traced over the pile of removed implants. Somewhere back inside her head, Michael was munching on popcorn from a large tub he'd somehow acquired, while watching the large-screen TV. "And what if I don't believe you?" For a twelve-year-old, Riley had the cynical expression of someone much older. "Costa-Brown or whoever asked you to be here could've given you a cortex bomb or a poison dispenser or anything like that, and I'd never know."

"It's true," Amy said sweetly. "You wouldn't, until it was too late. Now, I'm saying you don't have anything like that in you. Would you rather believe me and be wrong, or disbelieve me and be wrong?" To be totally honest, I'm tempted to tell her that she's right, and if she doesn't … what was it you said before? Pull her head in? If she doesn't do that, I'll put it to use.

That would be playing right into her hands, Michael advised her gravely. Two points to remember, here. First, we give what we expect to get. Total truthfulness. If you lie to her now and she figures it out, you've lost all credibility. Second, she's testing to see if you did implant anything. Saying no means she can't know for sure.

So what if I said yes? Would that shut her up?

Then she'd start pushing the boundaries. Seeing how far up your nose she can get before you threaten her with it. And if you never actually show her the controller, she knows you're lying and she can keep getting away with it.

Well, that sucks. I mean, I know you're not wrong, but it still sucks.

Riley's expression seemed to agree with her that the situation sucked, but probably not for the same reasons. "Okay, fine," the young supervillain grumped. "You didn't implant anything. Or you did, and you're not telling me."

"Exactly," Amy agreed. "One of those two conclusions is entirely correct."

"If Mr. Jack was here, he'd know which one it was," Riley claimed. "He always knew that sort of thing."

"Because he was Mastering you, and reading your intentions via your powers," Amy reminded her. "But if he tried it on someone without powers, it wouldn't work." She tilted her head. "Prove me wrong?"

Riley scowled at her. "It's not fair. If I make up a story saying I saw him doing that, you'll know."

Amy raised her eyebrows. "I never said I was going to be fair. Just that I wanted you given the all-clear to leave this cell."

"That's something else I don't understand." Riley gave Amy a steady look. "I know exactly how famous you aren't. Yes, you're the well-known Panacea, but you're also a member of a second or third tier team in a fifth-tier city. There's no way you've got the pull to take me out of this cell without at least ten guards around, two of them pointing their foam sprayers at you."

"Yeah, you'd think that, wouldn't you?" Amy wanted to smirk, but she held her expression steady as she raised her voice. "Okay, she's clean. We're coming out now."

<><>​

Bonesaw

Riley fully expected the guards to tell Panacea to stand back from her, but they didn't. The transparent cell door hissed open, and for the first time the unending hum from the exhaust fans died away. Riley's ears popped slightly as the air pressure rose. Once upon a time, her surgeries would've allowed her to ignore that, but of course Panacea had changed things back.

Panacea ushered Riley out of the cell, moving with absolute confidence despite the fact that both of them were wearing the disposable coveralls. "Clothes, please," she said. "For both of us."

One of the guards stepped forward. "Panacea, I'm not sure this is a wise course of action."

"Maybe not, sergeant, but that's not your call." Panacea raised her eyebrows. "You've got your orders."

With growing astonishment, Riley watched as the guards almost fell over themselves to do what Panacea told them. The healer was supplied with her robes, and Riley was presented with jeans and a T-shirt in what looked to be her size. Moving with that strange new confidence, Panacea led them to a changing area where Riley took a certain amount of pleasure in tearing the coveralls to small pieces once she'd donned the new clothing. The T-shirt, she discovered, had a screenprint of Alexandria on the front.

"Okay, what now?" she asked, once she'd done that. "They might've let you out of the cell with me, but we'll still be under surveillance every second from when we walk out the door to when they decide to reel me back in."

Panacea gave Riley an evil grin. "Doorway to the Boardwalk," she said, and the floor fell out from under Riley. Letting out an involuntary squawk, Riley fell about four feet and landed on her butt on a sandy beach next to a built-up boardwalk. As she stared around in total confusion, a portal opened nearby and Panacea stepped out of it, grinning broadly. "Sorry, not sorry. I couldn't resist."

Riley's first protest of you did that on purpose was promptly derailed by the older girl's admission that she had indeed done it on purpose. Grumpily, she accepted Panacea's offered hand-up, and got to her feet. "Where are we, and how did you do that?"

"We're in Brockton Bay," Panacea informed her. "You know, that 'fifth-tier city' you mentioned?" As she spoke, she unfastened the hooded robe and removed it, leaving her dressed much as Riley was, save that her T-shirt featured Armsmaster. "I'm pretty sure you've never been up this way before, though the Nine has, once or twice."

"Right." Riley peered out to sea at the force-field bubble covering what looked almost like an oil rig, then back at the posts holding up the boardwalk next to them. "And how you got us here …?"

"Oh, that's a power I've recently gotten access to." Panacea seemed to be highly amused, as though she knew the punchline to a joke Riley hadn't yet figured out. "It's very handy, isn't it?"

"For you, maybe." Riley hadn't forgotten—or forgiven—being dumped on her ass in the sand like that. "How does a biokinetic like you get access to a Mover power? Did you figure how to rejigger your own power? That would be pretty cool."

"It doesn't work like that." Panacea's tone indicated she knew what she was talking about. "When I say I have access to it, that's exactly what I mean. No more and no less."

Which didn't exactly enlighten Riley, but she figured she'd learn more in time. "Okay, fine. How about the other thing you said you'd tell me?"

"What other thing?" Panacea looked at her, faux innocently.

"You know what I'm talking about." Riley glared at her, to no particular effect. "How did you sneak up on Mr. Jack?"

"Ahh, yes, that." Panacea sniffed, and raised a finger. "I'll tell you in a bit. Once we've got donuts."

"Donuts?" Then Riley smelled it too. It was a very appealing smell, one that had her mouth watering. While they hadn't exactly starved her in the holding cell, sweets and pastries had been remarkably few and far between. "When you say 'we', do you mean …"

Panacea chuckled. "I mean I'm gonna buy some and share them with you, silly. I don't want to see how you get with a sugar crash."

They went along the base of the Boardwalk until they came to steps leading upward, and climbed them to get to the upper level. From there, it was only a short walk to the vendor selling donuts, where Panacea paid for a box of a dozen. They moved off, managing to resist the heavenly odours wafting out from under the closed lid until they located a bench with nobody nearby to eavesdrop.

Sitting with the box between them, each girl took one. Riley tried hard not to cram the whole thing into her mouth all at once—that wasn't what a good girl did—but she came close anyway. "Panacea," she said, after she'd finished the first one. "Can I ask a question?"

The healer held up her finger for a second, then finished with the mouthful. "Call me Amy," she advised. "I'm out of costume and everything. But sure, what did you want to know?"

Amy. Riley considered that. It was definitely the first time she could recall that a hero had invited her to call them by their actual name. "Uh, why are we here? You could've taken me literally anywhere with that 'doorway' thing, but we're at a boardwalk, eating donuts."

Amy shrugged. "Because otherwise you'd be tense and pissed off at me, and I'd prefer to just talk." She paused. "Well, more tense and pissed off at me. Also, donuts."

Her points were valid. Riley took another donut while she was thinking about it. "Can you track me with that 'doorway' thing? Is that why you're not worried about me running off?"

The healer grinned. "Aren't you the smart cookie? Yes, I can absolutely do that. I could even order one to dump you back in your holding cell if I didn't feel like chasing after you. Are you gonna make me do that when we've still got donuts to eat?"

Now she was giving straight answers. Riley suspected she was telling the exact truth, and as such had no desire to test out that assumption. The donuts were still warm from the oven, and dusted with powdered sugar and cinnamon; as such, they made a compelling reason to not run away just yet.

"No, I'm not." Leaning back on the bench, Riley decided to slow down a bit for her third treat. "So, how did you sneak up on Mr. Jack, anyway?"

Amy smiled secretively. "I've got an eldritch being in my head, and he hid me from Jack Slash."

Of all the explanations Riley had expected to hear, that wasn't anywhere near the top. Or even close to halfway up. In fact, if they'd been written out, that one would have been appended via hastily-scribbled Post-It note. "Are you pulling my leg? Because it sounds like you're pulling my leg."

"Telling the unvarnished truth, I swear. Cross my heart." Amy raised her eyebrows, but she didn't try for the innocent look again. This was probably a good idea, as she wasn't great at it.

"Okay, I'll bite." Riley did so, on another donut, then chewed and swallowed before continuing. "So, what's its name? Something that's got more consonants than vowels, or does it involve sounds that mortal throats were not intended to pronounce?"

Amy started laughing so hard, she doubled over on the seat and nearly dropped her donut. Riley stared at her as she cackled helplessly, face turning red and tears running down her cheeks. It occurred to Riley that she could make a run for it now, but there were still donuts left to eat and she wanted to know what was so funny, gosh darn it!

Finally, Amy recovered her composure, though she kept giggling every now and again. "His name's Michael," she revealed. "Ordinary, everyday Michael. He comes from some kind of higher plane of existence from here. One time, he told me that he's older than our entire universe."

Riley felt vaguely cheated. Eldritch abominations should have cool, edgy names, not boring ones like Michael. "So what's he do? Make your eyes turn black? Cause blood to run down the walls? Speak words that cannot be deciphered by mortal man?"

Amy snorted in amusement as she grabbed her last donut. "Well, kind of the last one, sometimes. He uses Australian slang a lot."

"Okay, now you're just messing with me." Riley poked her tongue out at Amy. "An eldritch horror from Australia? That's stupid."

"I never said 'eldritch horror'," Amy reminded her. "I said 'eldritch being'. And as for what he does? If he wants Thinker powers to ignore me, they ignore me. Also, Master powers. So when Jack Slash was being a menace, he did his little trick and got me to within arm's length, then I just turned off the asshole's brain. That's when Alexandria got rid of him. Michael's reasonably certain she snapped his neck."

"Oh." The explanation had been concise and to the point, and lacking the blustery boastfulness that a lie would've contained to fill in the gaps. Finding out that Panacea was no longer vulnerable to Masters and Thinkers was a bit of a surprise, though. "Who knows you can do this? I mean, who knows about this Michael?"

Amy shrugged. "A few people. Not many. But Michael also knows things, about Earth Bet and the future … and the past. I've been able to use this knowledge to help people and to stop bad things from happening. I also helped save Alexandria's life, so the PRT kind of owes me a massive favour or ten. Which is where I get the pull to walk you out of holding."

"Okay, knowing things about the future I can see as being really important." Riley took up her last donut. "But what's so great about knowing the past? It's gone. It's done."

"I was curious about that too," admitted Amy. "But he knows things about people that nobody else does. For instance, my biological father's name. And the name of your family pet, Muffles."

The last sentence dropped into the conversation like a hand grenade into a deep pool. Nothing happened for a moment, then all sorts of things came boiling up from underneath. Riley tried to pass it off with a sarcastic comment, but it didn't even make it past her teeth. She stared at Amy, trying to block out all the memories that one name had unlocked, her throat dry.

"I'm sorry," murmured Amy, patting her hand gently. "I didn't know how to better break that sort of thing to you. Are you okay?"

Be a good girl … Her mother's voice sounded once more in her ears. She wanted to close her eyes and cut off the accompanying image, but doing that only made it more vivid. "I … I'll be fine," she croaked, lying through her teeth but not knowing what else to do. If there was one thing six years as Jack Slash's prisoner/teammate had taught her, it was that any sign of weakness would be mercilessly hammered on until she either eliminated it or gave way under the assault.

"I know you will." Amy took her hands and stared into her eyes. "Look at me, Riley."

With a shock, Riley realised that her vision was blurry from tears welling in her eyes. "Don't look at me," she choked. "Don't look."

For years she'd worked to suppress this memory, all the memories of her time before the Nine invaded her home and killed her family over and over until she became one of them through sheer self-preservation and exhaustion. She'd even forgotten Muffles' name until now. The harmless little fluffball had become part of her 'induction' into the Nine, wounded grievously so that she was forced to repeatedly save him along with the rest of her family.

All the emotions she'd locked away and pretended didn't exist were suddenly finding an outlet. A couple of years ago, she'd re-engineered her tear ducts to squirt acid on command; Amy had of course changed them back. The long-withheld tears were coming in a flood now, overspilling her eyelids and coursing down her face to soak into her T-shirt.

"It's okay to grieve," Amy assured her, patting her hand again. "It's okay to mourn. Crying isn't weakness. It allows you to learn to let go instead of locking things away."

That wasn't what Mr. Jack had said. In fact, Mr. Jack would have argued with more or less everything Amy had to say, whether she had an eldritch being in her head or not. Capes were innately superior to normal humans, he'd said on more than one occasion. And being superior, capes had the right to do whatever they felt like and could get away with. He'd claimed the fact that he had indeed gotten away with everything he liked over an extended period of time proved his overall point.

But now Mr. Jack—who had killed Riley's family, including Muffles—was dead. His claim of being able to do whatever he liked had been rendered null and void by the simple fact that he was now dead because of it. And if Amy had had a hand in his demise, as she claimed, then by his logic she was superior to him and was thus justified in killing him.

All this tumbled through Riley's head in a confused mess of concepts while she sought not to drown in grief and guilt; one for her family and the other, her victims. Just as she'd suppressed the memories of her loved ones, so too she'd pushed down any thought that she was doing wrong by the many, many people she'd murdered and mutilated in her six years with the Nine. But now they came back to her mind, staring as they pleaded with her, even when they lacked eyes and tongues to do it with.

I was a monster, she realised. I am a monster. Jack Slash may have set me on this path, but I've happily danced through the pools of blood, and spread ever more suffering behind me. How can someone like Amy, dedicated to healing, even stand to be near me?

And she sat on the bench as the tears continued to roll down her face.

<><>​

Panacea

With Riley's hand in hers, Amy carefully watched the younger girl's metabolism. Wow, holy crap. I'm not sure if this here isn't worse than shoving her in the Birdcage for the rest of her natural life.

Michael didn't sound much more thrilled, but his mental tone was determined. I never said it would be. But this is the fastest, most efficient way to kill Bonesaw the Slaughterhouse Nine member and still have access to Riley Davis, child prodigy.

You know, if anyone else had told me I should do this, I would've told them to go take a long walk off a short pier. Amy still wasn't thrilled with him, or with the fact that she'd followed his suggestion.

Nobody else knows you like I do. They don't know what you can do, or how you do it. And they don't know how Bonesaw ticks. That it's even possible for her to be rehabilitated.

She snorted, then very subtly adjusted Riley's brain chemistry so she wouldn't be able to hide behind self-justifications. Right now, the ex-Nine member was seeing reality exactly as it was, her memories laid out before her, with no way to hide from her wrongdoings. Gradually, Amy was leading her through her time as Bonesaw so she had time to repent for each of the horrific things she'd done. At the same time, she was ensuring that Riley's psyche didn't collapse under the pressure.

This was not something she'd ever thought she'd be able to do, or even want to do. But life had a way of leading down strange paths.

I still wouldn't believe it, except you told me it's possible. You do know what she's done in the Nine, right?

Yeah. And you do know she had Jack Slash behind her every step of the way, prodding her to be more and more inventive, right?

Amy sighed. I know. And I'm doing it. But I don't like it. Not in the slightest.

I'm pleased you don't enjoy it, he assured her. I'd be lot more worried if you got a taste for it and went around just making sure everyone was perfectly okay with you doing whatever you wanted with people's brains. But sometimes there's a necessary evil, and this is one of those times. Also, there's an upside.

What's that? There was no upside to this—apart from Riley becoming less of a murder-munchkin and more of a valuable member of society—that Amy could see.

This is an intricate use of your power, right? You're learning stuff right now. And so is your shard. You doing this feeds it more data, and makes it happier, which in turn makes it much less likely to turn around and activate your power without your consent.

Ah, crap. I wish you hadn't reminded me of that. Now I'm scared I'll screw this up and turn her into a murderous psychopath.

A moment later, she realised exactly what she'd said and wanted to facepalm. Inside her head, he laughed out loud. Oh, that bit's easy. Turning her back from a tweenage murderhobo into a semi-heroic cape, that's the difficult part. But you seem to be managing it. And like I said, if you do something complicated and interesting, you feed your shard data. Starving it of data is where shit's likely to go sideways faster than an outhouse in a tornado. Just ask Leet.

Like me and Vicky in that future you said you stopped.

Exactly. He sounded pleased. That was never fair on either of you. Now you both get a chance at a happier life.

You're big on that, aren't you?

Guilty as charged.

So, what's she going to be like once we're done here?

He paused before answering. I honestly have no real idea. But you've dug through her old memories and shattered her current preconceptions, so maybe she's got a chance of being a normal kid once she comes out of this? Riley instead of Bonesaw?

Well, we can only hope so.

If anyone can do it, you can. I have faith in you.

She smiled. I have faith in us.

That's the spirit.

Are we ever going to tell Director Piggot how we achieved this?

He recoiled in horror. Oh, HELL no.

She smirked. Didn't think so.



End of Part Twenty-Eight

 

[Planeshunter]

Bonesaw is addressed both as Riley Grace and as Riley Davis once each, while that's perfectly correct since her full name is Riley Grace Davis, it's hella confusing for the reader.

Just a small nitpick that had me scratching my head till I reached for the wiki.

 

[Akuma-Heika]

ten thousand volts of fuck-you.

Click to shrink...

That is some insane amperage since 10 kilovolts isn't that much (for a massive over-the-top killswitch).

 

[Ack]

That is some insane amperage since 10 kilovolts isn't that much (for a massive over-the-top killswitch).

Click to shrink...

I know that, and you know that, but nobody ever thinks of the amperage. Volts get all the publicity.

 

[Akuma-Heika]

I know that, and you know that, but nobody ever thinks of the amperage. Volts get all the publicity.

Click to shrink...

I know, and it drives me nuts. Most accurate would be watts, since that is the actual amount of effective energy, but I can think of only one commercial that had actually used watts rather than volts in describing something, but every other RL or fiction use is volts unless you are reading technical details about something.

 

[Tranquil Zebra]

That is some insane amperage since 10 kilovolts isn't that much (for a massive over-the-top killswitch).

Click to shrink...

I got the impression that the 10kV was the "stand up faster!"-button, not the kill switch.

 

[edale]

I know, and it drives me nuts. Most accurate would be watts, since that is the actual amount of effective energy, but I can think of only one commercial that had actually used watts rather than volts in describing something, but every other RL or fiction use is volts unless you are reading technical details about something.

Click to shrink...

Except Watts isn't an effective measure of how much stopping power an electrical current has to a human.

A human can easily survive 5 million watts (10 million volts at 0.5 amps), while they could easily die to 10 watts (1 volt at 10 amps).

Really, as long as the electrical current is over 1.8 or so amps (high enough to bypass the electrical resistance of human skin), voltage doesn't matter for how deadly it charge is, just whether the path the electricity follows in your body crosses your brain or heart.

 

[Akuma-Heika]

Except Watts isn't an effective measure of how much stopping power an electrical current has to a human.

A human can easily survive 5 million watts (10 million volts at 0.5 amps), while they could easily die to 10 watts (1 volt at 10 amps).

Really, as long as the electrical current is over 1.8 or so amps (high enough to bypass the electrical resistance of human skin), voltage doesn't matter for how deadly it charge is, just whether the path the electricity follows in your body crosses your brain or heart.

Click to shrink...

For me, it is similar to describing something as huge because its x-axis is a 1 kilometer long, but if its y and z axes are both 1 nanometer long, the total volume would be very small indeed. So for me volts and amps are x and y axes, watts being the volume calculated from them. Depending on the other numbers can change the math tremendously, but to use your example that 10 watts might have also been 20 volts at 0.5 amps, which would be less harmful then the 5 million example you used. The bigger the total though, the larger range it can encompass, which means more options that it would indeed be fatal, aka that 5M watts being 1 volt at 5M amps, or 2x2.5M, etc.

Edit: TL;DR all of them alone are bad to determine things, but the most encompassing descriptor would be watts

 

[edale]

Depending on the other numbers can change the math tremendously, but to use your example that 10 watts might have also been 20 volts at 0.5 amps, which would be less harmful then the 5 million example you used. The bigger the total though, the larger range it can encompass, which means more options that it would indeed be fatal, aka that 5M watts being 1 volt at 5M amps, or 2x2.5M, etc.

Click to shrink...

I don't think there's a conductor on the planet that could survive 5 million amps; hell, I'm not sure about any insulators surviving that, lol.

And actually, in "how harmful" the charge is (to a human)? Absolutely no difference between 10 million volts at 0.5 amps, and 20 volts at 0.5 amps. You'd barely feel a tingle from either.

Amperage is really the only indicator you have of how dangerous an electrical current really is.

Don't get me wrong, Watts does have it's place as a measurement; just not in the measurement of "human safety."

 

[TheRookIsOnFire]

Then what does it measure? I know it IS a measure, but of what?

 

[macdjord]

Then what does it measure? I know it IS a measure, but of what?

Click to shrink...

How much energy is delivered per second. Which is what you need if you want to calculate, say, whether this hair-dryer will blow a fuse. It's just not very useful for calculating 'will this zap kill me?'.

 

[edale]

Then what does it measure? I know it IS a measure, but of what?

Click to shrink...

Electricity travels in a wave:

(not an actual electrical graph, just to show a generic sine wave)

Voltage is how much electricity is being transferred in one complete cycle of the sine wave. This is displayed by how high/low the sine wave reaches.
Amperage is how often the sine wave completes one cycle.

So in the graphs above, the second one has the same amperage, but a 2x higher voltage.

 

[macdjord]

Electricity travels in a wave:

(not an actual electrical graph, just to show a generic sine wave)

Voltage is how much electricity is being transferred in one complete cycle of the sine wave. This is displayed by how high/low the sine wave reaches.
Amperage is how often the sine wave completes one cycle.

So in the graphs above, the second one has the same amperage, but a 2x higher voltage.

Click to shrink...

No, AC current uses a wave. You are correct that the second graph shows double the voltage, but wrong about everything else; voltage does not measure how much electricty moves per cycle, and amperage has nothing to do with the length of the cycle.

Voltage measure how strongly the electrons want to move - if you think of a wire as a pipe of water, voltage is how much pressure its under. Amperage measures current, i.e. how many electrons are moving through a given point in the wire per second. Wattage is how much power is being delivered, and is equal to voltage times amps - x electrons under y volts of pressure delivers as much juice as half the electrons under twice the voltage. (This is why electricity is transferred long-distance using high-voltage wires - high voltage means low amperage, which means you don't heat up the wire as much.)

 

[edale]

No, AC current uses a wave. You are correct that the second graph shows double the voltage, but wrong about everything else; voltage does not measure how much electricty moves per cycle, and amperage has nothing to do with the length of the cycle.

Voltage measure how strongly the electrons want to move - if you think of a wire as a pipe of water, voltage is how much pressure its under. Amperage measures current, i.e. how many electrons are moving through a given point in the wire per second. Wattage is how much power is being delivered, and is equal to voltage times amps - x electrons under y volts of pressure delivers as much juice as half the electrons under twice the voltage. (This is why electricity is transferred long-distance using high-voltage wires - high voltage means low amperage, which means you don't heat up the wire as much.)

Click to shrink...

Hate to break it to you, but I wasn't wrong, and your example doesn't contradict mine (and yes, DC current also travels in a wave).

But I really don't feel like going into all the details of electrical theory (like the fact that electrons don't actually flow through wires at all, and electricity is actually transferred via the energy field surrounding the wire), as this was supposed to just be just a rough example, not a college level dissertation.

 

[macdjord]

Hate to break it to you, but I wasn't wrong, and your example doesn't contradict mine (and yes, DC current also travels in a wave).

But I really don't feel like going into all the details of electrical theory (like the fact that electrons don't actually flow through wires at all, and electricity is actually transferred via the energy field surrounding the wire), as this was supposed to just be just a rough example, not a college level dissertation.

Click to shrink...

You are correct that my explanation is a high-school-level explanation rather than a college-level one. However, your posts made several specific claims that are factually incorrect:

• You claim that electricity travels in a wave. It is possible that is true, in some quantum-mechanical wave-particle duality sense that's taught at a higher level than I ever studied. But the diagram you showed is of AC current - voltage cycling between positive and negative.
• You claimed that amperage is a function of the length of the cycle. It is not; the length of the cycle is the frequency - 60hz in North America, 50hz pretty much everywhere else in the world.
• You claim that electrons do not flow through wires. This is incorrect. While the electrical power is transferred by the voltage difference which travels at a significant fraction of the speed of light, individual electrons do move along the wire at a speed of a few meters per hour (assuming DC current; with AC the electrons still move, but they alternate direction 100-120 times per second so they never actually get anywhere).
  • Edit: More accurately, at any given time, individual electrons are moving at ~1% the speed of light, but they are bouncing around randomly so most of that cancels out; a few meters per hour is the net displacement over macroscopic time periods when a current is applied.

 

[edale]

You claim that electricity travels in a wave. It is possible that is true, in some quantum-mechanical wave-particle duality sense that's taught at a higher level than I ever studied. But the diagram you showed is of AC current - voltage cycling between positive and negative.

Click to shrink...

I'm frankly too tired to continue this atm, but this video will at least explain what I mean about electricity traveling in waves:

And OK, my "at all" on the statement about electrons flowing was a bit of an exaggeration, but the actual flow of electrons is so slow as to not really be a factor in the actual transference of electrical energy (other than creating the fields the energy is transferred through), and only exists in DC current.

 

[Diraniola]

Is there a reason this derailed into a detailed discussion of electricity? I thought this was supposed to be a story thread.

 

[macdjord]

I'm frankly too tired to continue this atm, but this video will at least explain what I mean about electricity traveling in waves:

Click to shrink...

Okay, you seem to have mixed up two different things. Yes, electricity is transferred by electric fields; the actual movement of electrons is a component of the process but doesn't carry power in itself. However, those fields are not waves. Light is made up of electromagnetic waves, not electricity. Look at that video at 7:10, where it has a diagram of a simple DC circuit. All of the fields are static. None of them are oscillating. There are no waves.

And OK, my "at all" on the statement about electrons flowing was a bit of an exaggeration, but the actual flow of electrons is so slow as to not really be a factor in the actual transference of electrical energy (other than creating the fields the energy is transferred through), and only exists in DC current.

Click to shrink...

Actually, electrons move in AC, too. It's just they spend 1/120th of a second moving one direction, and the next 1/120th of a second moving back the other way, so they never get anywhere in the long term.