Beyond The Impossible

Washington, D.C.

Todd Slate wakes up with a headache. He gets off the couch, almost tripping on the empty pizza box on the floor. He must’ve fallen asleep; the last thing he can remember is Noriko explaining her plans for the new organization chart of Null Technologies. He hears her voice saying:

<Okay, let’s try this. Increase kinetic compression by 17%.>

<Drag exceeds forcefield maximum threshold resulting in loss of vehicle and life. Hello mister Slate.>

Still half asleep, Todd sees Noriko standing in front of a holographic motorbike, besides the floating eye that just spoke with an artificial female voice.

<Uhm…hello?>

<Todd, this is IRIS. Integrated Reconfigurable Intelligence System.>

<Right, the supercomputer you mentioned. Isn’t she supposed to be at the Tower?>

<I have a wireless connection with the N-Watch that Mistress Null always wears.>

<Nice meeting you IRIS. But you shouldn’t call her “mistress”, at least not in public. It could lead to too many questions. Nice bike, by the way.>

<The Phoenix NX-1. The real one’s parked outside> Noriko explains.

“Real” isn’t the first word to come to Todd’s mind. The Phoenix looks like a cross between a sports bike and something out of the Tron movie: sleek, elegant, flame decals on the sides, and wheels glowing with red energy.

<The engine is a low-yield plasma reactor. It uses kinetic generators to compress the air inside miniaturized scramjets. It’s by far the fastest motorbike on the planet.>

<Really? How fast does it go?>

<I’ve tested it to 615 kilometers per…I mean 382 miles per hour.>

<What!? That’s insane!!!>

<That’s just as fast as I can drive it. With computer assisted drive and the forcefield generator at maximum, it can go up to 784 miles per hour. Mach 1.02.>

<You’re got to be kidding me! This thing is supersonic!?>

<Technically speaking, it’s only transonic> IRIS explains.

<Yes, I’m working on a way to double the speed, but so far every modification ends up pretty much disintegrating the entire thing.>

<This is, without a doubt, the coolest thing ever>  Todd declares, still checking out every detail of the Phoenix.

<If you’re fully awake now, we should go back to work.>

<This is part of work, Noriko. You should go to Congress riding this thing.>

<Why?>

<Because it’s the coolest thing ever.>

<Wouldn’t it be kind of distracting?>

<Exactly! No matter what happens, you’ll still frighten and confuse a lot of people. But it won’t matter if you arrive riding a supersonic bike.>

<Transonic. And it’s a terrible idea: I don’t have a driver’s license.>

<What…then why build a superbike like this!?>

<I just like bikes> Noriko shrugs.

Todd stares at her. Green leather jacket, grey T-shirt with the Ø logo, black jeans, combat boots.

<I bet you do. What are you going to wear?>

<What I am wearing now> Noriko answers, crossing her arms defiantly.

Todd shakes his head: he can’t believe they’re having this conversation.

<You must be the only teenage girl on the planet who doesn’t care what she wears.>

<I’m also the only girl on the planet that needs to testify before Congress because she invented something that makes nuclear deterrent look like child’s play> Noriko replies, her silver eyes shining to drive home the fact she’s as removed from normal as she can be.

<I see your point. Now try to see mine: you sit down in Congress dressed like that, and people will see that you don’t think much of it.>

<But I don’t think much of Congress. All I’m doing is damage control for my public image.>

<Then you should look like you’re fully in control of the situation, treating the senators like your equals. Or better, looking like the only adult in the room.>

<That shouldn’t be difficult. Alright, but no skirts. That’s not up to debate.>

<I can select a wide variety of outfits, Lady Null.>

<Not right now. I’d better be going, mister Slate needs to get some sleep.>

<You have been awake for the last 19 hours, Lady Null. You need to rest.>

<19 hours? Didn’t you tell me you had a heart attack recently?> Todd recalls.

<I’m fine now. My brain doesn’t need much sleep anyway.>

<But your body does. You can sleep here.>

<…>

<I mean you can sleep in my bed while I take the couch.>

<It’s a terrible idea. I have too much work to do> Noriko complains, pointing at the Phoenix NX-1.

<I can notify the authorities that you’ve been driving without a license.>

<You wouldn’t dare.>

Noriko and Todd stare at each other. Shining silver eyes or not, the man doesn’t budge.

<Fine. Work starts at 6 AM; you better have plenty of coffee ready> Noriko finally concedes, throwing her hands in the air and walking towards the bedroom.

 

The next morning

Colorado Springs Airport

A young woman with glasses sits down in the waiting room. Her name is Erika Rhys and her flight from New York just landed; she takes a minute to adjust her makeup, then reaches for the phone in her purse and makes a call.

<Hi, it’s Erika. I just landed> she says.

<Speaking in a public place can be dangerous> the voice on the other end answers. It’s been altered enough to be unrecognizable, but Erika can’t forget Leiko’s voice.

<You’re just being paranoid. Relax, everything’s going to be fine.>

<I’m risking a lot with this move, Beautiful Cancer. I won’t let you jeopardize the mission.>

<Hey, you don’t get to call the shots here: I was handling stuff like this when your people were living in caves.>

<And yet you needed my help to locate Project Silver.>

<Details, details.>

<You are still hiding something from me. How did you discover that Quantum is Max Black?>

<You should know that keeping secrets is a lady’s prerogative. Now, if you excuse me, I need to dress up> Erika says, disconnecting the phone.

She just spotted a woman with a familiar face passing by: mid-thirties, taller and more muscular than her. Erika takes off her glasses and discreetly follows her to the ladies room.

Once inside, Erika locks the door. There isn’t a key, she just pushes it hard enough to jam the hinges. She then places her phone above the sink and takes a deep breath. When the woman comes out of the stall, Erika exhales a dark and thick vapor that jumps at her.

There isn’t time to scream. The only sound is that of Erika’s body going limp and falling, like a puppet whose strings have been cut.

Ignoring the dead body in front of her, the woman checks herself in the mirror.

<Hm. Not my taste exactly, but it’ll do> she admits. Someone knocks on the door, pushing to open.

The woman doesn’t waste any more time: she moves Erika’s corpse inside one of the stalls, recovers the phone, and hits the bathroom’s door with her shoulder to break it open.

<Sorry, the doors here are awful. You might want to avoid that one over there> she suggests.

 

Minutes later, just outside of the airport, the woman makes her call again.

<Hi, it’s Beautiful Cancer again.>

<Did you get the target?>

<Yes, I’m now wearing Major Juliana Vazquez. It’s been ages since the last time I was a Latina.>

<Don’t call me again until you’ve ready to strike. I’ll join you when the time comes.>

Beautiful Cancer can’t answer, because Leiko ended the call without even a goodbye. There’s no time to waste: it won’t take long before somebody discovers the corpse of Erika Rhys.

 

Arcadia VII, 25.000 light-years from Earth

This would be considered the capital of the Artemis section of the Olympian Galaxy, if there were any kind of government at all. Arcadia VII is the largest asteroid in its solar system, completely hollowed out to make room for endless caves. Arcadia VII houses the headquarters of all the criminal organizations in the galaxy. It’s easy to see why: there is no government, no law enforcement, no laws except one: “no one f##ks with Artemis”.

Unlike most of her family, Artemis doesn’t care about worship. She just wants to be recognized as the boss. And to have fun.

Now she’s deep in the bowels of Arcadia VII, wrestling a 30-ton dragon inside the main arena.

Most of the planets in Artemis space house these majestic and terrifying animals. Accurately selected over hundreds of thousands of years, dragons are bred for one purpose: provide entertainment for Artemis.

When the dragon swallows Artemis whole, the arena goes silent. Nothing happens for a full five seconds. Then a fountain of bright red blood sprouts from the dragon’s head; Artemis emerges through the brain, drenched in cerebral matter and grinning like a maniac.

The crowd is cheering. Artemis takes it all in, standing for the applause under the rain of blood.

<The mighty Artemis. How the Goddess of the Hunt has fallen>

Artemis looks around to find the source of that voice. Female and deeply distorted. There’s nobody.

-Who said that!? Come out and face me!

<Gods shape the world around them. Animals resort to violence. Which one are you?>

Something passes through the corpse of the dragon and attacks Artemis. Her reflexes are good enough to avoid a direct hit, but the claws still graze her well-defined abs.

With a wave of hand, Artemis releases a shockwave of pure destruction. Half of the arena collapses under the attack, burying hundreds of innocent bystanders.

<You are relentlessly uncivilized, Artemis. A relic of obsolete times>

<Come out and fight like a g###amned hunter!!!> Artemis shouts, stomping the ground.

On Earth, this would cause a sizeable earthquake. On Arcadia VII, it makes the whole asteroid shake. Power conduits rupture, gravity generators fail, and a makeshift civilization two thousand years in the making crumbles under the tantrum of an angry goddess.

When Artemis clears through the rubble, two hundred thousand people are already dead. People everywhere are cursing her name and running away.

<Who are you!?> she screams. She inspects the wound on her abdomen: it’s already healing, but the claws actually managed to draw blood.

<I am the herald of the future. A loyal subject of Hephaestus> the attacker says, phasing through the rocks. She has blue skin and an attractive female body, but that’s the only thing that identifies her as a Lampyrian. Her organic wings have been replaced with new metal ones. There are cybernetic implants everywhere, and her hands now have deadly claws of neutral matter.

<Elytra? What did that ugly hunchback do to you!?>

<He removed the flaws> she says, phasing her hand through Artemis’ head. The goddess screams in pain as the alien cyborg squeezes her brain from the inside, but even that is not enough to kill her.

<Know this: Hephaestus is coming. You will all fall beneath him>

Artemis falls on her knees, spitting blood and pride.

<This is a formal declaration of war> the cyborg clarifies, before disappearing into the ground.