Falling Leaves

Cort’s release was far less interesting that he’d hoped for.  Two orderlies came in and unstrapped him, and then one of them asked him if he could get back to his room by himself.  Looking around fruitlessly for a wheelchair, Cort nodded and the orderlies disappeared so fast he expected a wind from air rushing in to fill the spaces they’d vacated.  Cort sighed a little, sure that this wasn’t really the kind of service he should be expecting given how expensive the Home was, and walked slowly back to his room.  On the way he had to walk past Fizz Mission’s room, and he paused outside her door.  Should he look inside?  Check that she was alone?

“That’s not your room, Mr. Stretch,” said a nurse coming up behind him.  A warm hand fell onto his shoulder.  “A couple more door, Sir, and you’ll be right there.  Who have you been visiting then?”

As she led him along the corridor he told her about his release, and she tutted and sounded shocked, made sure he was seated comfortably in his chair that looked out of the window, and then walked off again without ever telling him that she’d do anything about it.  He looked out of the window.  It looked into the courtyard, on the inside of the building.  He could see the other walls; the building was heptagonal for some reason, and he could see all of the other six sides.  Below was a grassy courtyard with a fountain, a tiny lake, and an equally tiny wooden bridge across the lake.  There was a small summer-house, and some white plastic chairs scattered around outside.  He’d sat down there in the summer, and it wasn’t quite as depressing at ground-level as it seemed from up here.  He sat up a little and squinted.  The lake was completely frozen.

“Icebro fell into it,” said a voice behind him.  He turned his head, hearing the bones click, and saw Dr. Madison in the doorway.  “He was with a nurse, so he wasn’t hurt and was pulled out quickly, but he still reacted to the shock by freezing the lake.  To be perfectly honest, I’m relieved.  I was worrying that he had lost his powers before that.”

“Why would that be a worry?”  Cort didn’t know Dr. Madison very well; only that he specialised in superheroes that had lost or were losing their powers, and also did most of the cardiac surgery when it was needed.

“Because lost powers don’t just disappear.  They go somewhere.  Sometimes they pass on to someone close by, and sometimes they become dormant somehow.  That’s dangerous because if they’re woken up by something, say by a sharp shock, or a nightmare, all the built-up energy gets released in one burst, and depending on the power that can be very bad.”

“You mean…?”

“I mean that if Icebro goes dormant and then gets a bad shock he could encase this whole building in ice.  We’d suffocate while we were trying to dig our way out.”

“He’s that strong?”

“He’s gotten stronger as he gets older.  I have theories, but that’s all they are for now.  And they’re not why I’m here, Mr. Stretch.  Do you mind if I call you Cort?”

Cort braced his feet against the floor and turned the chair.  It made a farting noise as it rubbed across the carpet, and Dr. Madison’s face twitched with the effort of hiding a smile.  As the chair turned, Cort suddenly realised that he could see Fizz’s window from his own.

“Call me Cort,” he said.  “Everyone else seems determined to call me Mr. Stretch.”

“Very well Cort, I’m here because of your recent restraint.  You know that you produced a mucus after a chest infection that turned out to be mobile and possibly hostile.  Well, the results are back from the lab, and as the lead physician on this, I’ve conducted a couple of experiments of my own.  Just so you’re aware, we have a sample of your mucus in a sealed glass jar in my laboratory and I expect to keep it there for a while.”

Cort nodded; this sounded like a scientist, though in his experience Dr. Madison should have at least one manic laugh by now.  The Doctor would have done.

“So,” continued Dr. Madison, “we’re confident that this was an isolated incident.  Although your mucus is capable of a bacteria-like reproduction it’s non-sentient on seven out of eight measures and appears, at least in part, to have been produced as a side-effect of medication.  We’ve updated your medical records with specific notes to ensure that we don’t repeat the medication and this incident.  The mucus has some unusual flame-retardant properties that we want to investigate further, and an old colleague of yours, Chip Inside, has offered to help out in his spare time.”

“That’s good of him,” said Cort.  “So I’m in the clear?”

“For the mucus, yes,” said Dr. Madison.  “However, I now need to run some tests to find out if you’ve transferred any of your powers into the mucus.  I think I mentioned earlier that powers can be transferred, and this is one of the ways.  If you’re starting to give up your powers then we need to review our protocols for you.  We may have to restrict your visitors.”

“You mean no-one will be able to see me, don’t you.”  It was a question, it was a flat statement.

“No.”  Dr. Madison held Cort’s gaze without blushing or squirming.  “I mean that we’ll provide you with visitors who we think would benefit from your powers, and only they will be able to visit you until you complete the transfer.”

“Soldiers?”

“Most likely, but the Board makes the decision and there are some board-members who have other interests and priorities.”

“Wait.  Wait a minute.  What happens to me if my powers are all transferred?”

Now Dr. Madison broke eye contact.  He looked down at the ground.

“This is a home for retired superheroes, Cort.  Do I need to spell it out any further?”

Chip Inside

Cort woke with a start.  He was sure that something had woken him, but the room seemed quiet and dark now.  He lay perfectly still – quite easy as he was still restrained by the semi-intelligent nylon bands – and listened carefully.  He closed his eyes after a couple of seconds; even though there wasn’t much to see in the gloom it helped him concentrate.  For a few moments there was nothing and then… something.  Something faint, on the edge of hearing.  Ah, something trying to match his own breathing.  Cort held his breath and listened harder.  Sure enough, someone breathed softly and slowly, exactly when he would have breathed himself.  There was someone in the room with him.

He allowed himself to start breathing again, aware that complete silence would be a give-away as much as if he started shouting, and twisted slightly as though trying to turn over in his sleep.  The bands tightened, but it was more of a warning squeeze than aggressive, and as they did so he stretched his arm until it reached his toes.  He’d discovered this trick while playing backgammon with Bad Kitty, as it meant he could throw the dice himself.  Curiously, after he’d done that he’d stopped unaccountably losing in the end-game every game.

With his hand at his feet he had enough flex in his arm now to reach the emergency button on the headboard of his bed, so he walked his fingers gently up the covers until he got there and reached up to press it.  It clicked very faintly as he depressed it, and then – nothing.

“You’re awake then, Cort?”  The voice was warm and friendly, even slightly familiar, and for several moments Cort thought that it was the Doctor back from the dead for a fourth attempt.  He tensed, and the bands squeezed back like a strait-jacket.  “Don’t you remember me?”

“Doctor?”  Cort shook his head even as he said it, remembering that the Doctor was dead and that he, Mr. Stretch, was in lock-down while his sentient mucus was checked-out.  “No.  Bad Kitty?”

“Getting warmer,” said the voice.  “Are you always this slow to wake up properly?”

“Yes, sort of now,” said Cort.  “Chip.  Chip Inside.  I haven’t seen you in years.  What are you doing in my room?”

“Well, it’s not really your room, is it?” said Chip.  He sounded amused, and pleased that Cort had finally identified him.  “This is one of the general rooms of Surgery 2.  They’ve got you in here in case more of that mucus turns up and they need to stop you producing more of it.”  There was an odd note in his voice, and Cort easily deduced what was meant by ‘stop.’

“As in, Terminate with Extreme Prejudice?”

“You’ve got the slang down, daddio,” said Chip.  “It’s hard to believe you’re in a retirement home.”

“It’s hard to believe you’re pretending to be normal and holding down a government job!  With a pension!”

“Yeah.  Yeah, that’s not so cool, but, well, there is the matter of the pension.  It’s tracked as well, it’s a good one.  And the work is interesting a lot of the time.”

“Anything you can talk about?”

“What do you think?”

Cort laughed, a slightly gaspy noise as the nylon bands weren’t sure what to make of the chest movements and kept gripping.

“So why are you in my room?” he said.  “Are you the committee for bringing bad news?”

“Not exactly,” said Chip.  “I’m here discretely, on other business.  Your mucus is fascinating stuff, but it looks like a one-off, one of those little oddities somehow connected with our mutations and super-powers.  It’s not about to eat London, if that’s what you’re scared of.  No, I’m here instead on behalf of Sylvestra.”

“I’m too old for a job,” said Cort.  He laughed a little again.  “I can’t even imagine what she could have in mind.”

“Not much of a job, really,” said Chip.  “But important in its own way.  And if you agree we think we can get Bad Kitty to pitch in too.”

“Oh I see, that’s it is it?  You really want Little Miss Hairball and I’m just the easiest way to get to her.”

“No.  Really no, Cort.  I want you, and if we get Bad Kitty as well then that’s a bonus, a little bit of icing.  But you’re the cake, Cort.  All of it.”

“I’d be shaking my head if these restraints let me,” said Cort.  “I don’t believe you for a minute, but let’s pretend I do.  What do you want me to do?”

“Watch.”

“Watch what?  Bad Kitty undressing?  Her burlesque days are long gone, Chip!”

“I should hope so!” Chip sounded a little alarmed at the thought of an elderly lady with too much hair dressed in a tightly-laced corset and thigh-high heeled boots.  “We want you to watch for visitors to Fizz.”

Cort stayed silent for several seconds thinking about that.  When he spoke again there was a note of fear in his voice.

“Fizz isn’t allowed visitors.”

“I know.  But we think she’s going to get them, and we need someone on the inside, someone who can let us know if that happens.  That’s all, Cort, nothing else.  Just keep the embargo on Fizz Mission the way it’s supposed to be.”

“Sure,” said Cort.  “Of course I will.  You know, sometimes I wonder just how lonely she must be in there, you know?”

“She barely knows,” said Chip.  “The drugs they have her on mean she sees one day where the rest of us see sixty.  She doesn’t have enough time to feel lonely before something happens to distract her.”

“I see,” said Cort.  “Could be a blessing, really.”

“I hope so,” said Chip.  “Will you watch her then?  Let us know if anyone tries to visit her.”

“Sure thing,” said Cort.  “When do I get out of these straps then?”

“Tomorrow,” said Chip.  “Better to go through standard protocol really.  Thanks, Cort.  Sylvestra will be grateful for this.”

“No problem,” said Cort.  “Fizz is a sweet girl really.”

Bad Kitty

Bad Kitty came to see him.  He was still strapped down but they’d loosened the neck collar so that he could turn his head a little to watch the television or look at an e-reader on a stand.  A nurse, a new one who looked extremely muscular and was stationed in his room at all times during the day, made her stand in the doorway while she was checked over and checked out.  Cort could just see her face out of the corner of one eye.  She looked furious but resigned, and she didn’t say anything when the nurse went through the pockets of her dressing gown and made her open the backgammon board up.

“Hi Kitty,” he said when she was finally allowed in.  She looked around for a chair, and found that the nurse was sitting back down on the only one.

“I need a chair,” she said to him.  One hand went to her hip, and Cort remembered that pose so well from all the times that they’d fought over the years.  It signalled the onset of hostilities, and he found himself pressing himself back into the mattress in readiness.

“You’ll have to go and get one,” said the nurse, picking up the tv remote control.  Cort didn’t get to choose what they watched.

“No,” said Kitty, and there was a trace of a purr in her voice.  “No, because then you’ll have to search me again on the way back in, and apart from that, I’m too weak to carry a chair.”  Cort had to control a laugh there, as he could remember Bad Kitty throwing actual elephants at him when they’d fought in a circus once.  He managed to catch them all too.

“I can’t leave this room,” said the nurse, his attention back on the television, looking at the program guide.

“Then ring for someone to bring me a chair,” said Bad Kitty.  “Please.”

That was it, thought Cort.  That was the defining moment when you knew you were old.  When you stopped believing that you had the power, or the awe, to make people do things just because it was you, and you started saying ‘please’.  Even though Kitty made it sound a bit vulgar when she said it.  To his slight surprised the nurse pushed the intercom buzzer mounted on the wall by his chair, without stopping browsing through the program guide.

“Can we a chair for the lady?” he said when the intercom buzzed.  “And one of those little trolley tables, they want to play backgammon and if they can’t both see the board they won’t believe there’s no cheating going on.”

“I sometimes wonder,” said Kitty, now looking at Cort, “if I’d have had more success all those years ago if I’d said please more often then.”

“I doubt it,” said Cort.  “I said please all the time, and all that ever happened was that people stopped to think about whether they wanted to do me a favour or not.”

Kitty laughed, a giggle mixed with a purr.  “You never said please to me!”

“I don’t think I said more than three words to you until I met you here.”

“True, most of the time you’d yell Stop and I’d yell Never and then there wasn’t much chance to talk, was there?”

“There was the council meetings, we talked then.”

“But that was politics!”

The chair and table arrived then, brought by two more nurses who looked stronger-than-average, and Kitty graciously said thank-you and sat down, laying the board where Cort could see it.  Cort’s nurse selected a food program from the program guide at last, Masterchef, and sat upright, alert to any movement from Cort, while watching contestants cook a variety of foods.

“Can you stretch your way out of those things?” Kitty indicated the straps and restraints as she finished setting the backgammon board up.  “They don’t look very hard to escape from.”

Cort replied by starting to stretch his arm, thinning it out to pull it out from the strap.  Almost instantly the strap tightened further, pulling his arm painfully into the bed.  He stopped, and the strap stopped binding so tightly.

“That’s clever,” said Kitty.  “I never had that kind of thing!”

“I’m glad,” said Cort, smiling a little.  “You got me tied up a couple of times!”

“How do they do it then?”  She held up the dice pot, and Cort indicated that she would have to roll them for him.  “Do you know?”  The dice clattered on the board, and a 2 and 6 showed uppermost.

“Actually,” he said, “I do.  Build me on the 8-point.”  While Kitty moved the pieces as instructed and them rolled the dice for herself, he explained what Dr. Hernandez had told him.  “There was a fight between the Cut-throat Kid and Norman Nylon that ended up with Nylon breaking his back.  He’s ended up in here as well, but he’s in a near vegetative state, and needs life-support.  But, he’s started produced his signature nylon fibres all the time, and so the staff have hooked him up to this machine, a bit like an old-time Jacquard loom, that reels in the fibres so that he doesn’t end up smothered by them all.  The fibres are semi-sentient, and when Chip Inside heard about it, he came over to take a look at it.  He ended up building them a small AI device that can attach to the fibres and instruct them on how to move.  It’s all very clever, and that’s what’s holding me down now.”

Kitty looked thoughtful.  “Chip’s still alive?”

“Oh yes, but apparently he’s a working research scientist now.  Got a pension and everything.”

“I wish I’d thought about pensions sooner,” said Kitty.  “These places are expensive!”

Cort nodded, though it wasn’t all that visible.  “I feel sorry for Nylon,” he said.  “Sounds like he’s going to be kept alive like that for a long time to come.”

Kitty looked at him oddly, a side-long glance that lingered.  “How about you?” she said.  “What if you’re producing more of that mucus and Chip comes over and weaponises that?”

Cort shuddered, and all the straps tightened momentarily.  The nurse looked up from the tv screen, staring hard at him.

“I really, really hope that doesn’t happen,” he said.