Orb Weaver: Consequences, 5

I had gotten used to getting up early. In fact, I had managed to time things so that I could get by on about 5 hours sleep a night with a few catnaps in the day.

Which meant I was very annoyed when a cheerful voice woke me up. Looking out at the Bay through the PRT window, it looked like it was at least 10:00AM…

How the hell did I sleep so long?

And then there was the meal in front of me. Protein, carbs, a meal designed to give me the food needed to fuel Panacea’s repairs.

I finished it, once again endured the humiliating escort to the shower and bathroom. I couldn’t even really use my bugs to shove the outer signs of my irritation away.

Even if they say it's for my own protection, I expect they have Thinker support evaluating me.

Nobody would bother to do that with Taylor/Investigator, minor parahuman. But I’d fought Leviathan and played a central role in ending the Empire, in “cooperation” with Orb Weaver.

There was being modest, and there was being an idiot, and pretending I wasn’t on a lot of people’s radar was being an idiot.

After the shower, I was allowed to dress and…

Yep. Back to being an upright frog, only with emaciation for extra ugliness. I sighed as I was taken down to the physical therapy department. Dad was there along with the therapist.

“Hello, Taylor, I’m Dr. Jan Wilkes, and I’ll be helping you with your physical therapy!”

The woman was… chipper. In her thirties, slightly plump with a friendly face, and dark skinned.

“Thank you,” I said.

“No problem! Beyond everything else, you’ve made my life much easier.” She smiled. “It seems that minorities are having a safer time of things.”

Yes. And Victor was gone. If she was working with the PRT I expect he wouldn’t have targeted her, but could you ever be certain?

“Now Taylor, I’m a specialist in pediatric physical therapy. You’re in that place where beyond any parahuman issues, you’re still growing, so what we do with adults may not always be suitable for you.”

We’d see about that.

“I hope I can work through this quickly,” I said. “I don’t… like being not at my best.”

“Well,” she said. “I can see why, given how you deal with obstacles.” Then she grew more serious. “Taylor, I want to show you some images.”

“Okay.” Dad looked nervous.

Now she sounded far more professional. The first image was clearly my pelvis…

Wow. Those were a lot of breaks.

“Coming in, you’re pelvis had been severely damaged. The initial pelvic fracture was bad enough, but you then walked on it. Look here, and here, that’s where you suffered internal bleeding. You were also suffering from exhaustion, and that, combined with your… dubious choice of pick-me-up drugs, pushed you into several heart attacks. The damage to your face… Was also not good.”

“Kaiser was very upset with me,” I muttered.

“Well, he can be upset on the way to the Birdcage with Victor,” Dad said.

Ah, well, that ends the question of what Kaiser might do once he recovers.

Odd though. The E88 had been a fixture for longer than I’d been alive, in one form or another, and now it was gone. The fact I’d played a major role didn’t change that strange… feeling that something that had always been was now no more.

Not that I was mourning it.

“Now! Panacea healed you, and like she does with many patients, your system has been “overcharged.” That won’t last very long, but for now you’ll take in nutrients faster, and recover faster—so long as you listen to me.”

“Of course.”

“Good!” she said, with a big smile. “Now let’s start with the treadmill. Now, before you try to stand fully, I want you to put your hands on the safety rails, and don’t let go while you’re walking. Your father and I will spot you, and that’s another thing. While you’re here when you’re not in bed or in the chair, you’ll have a spotter until we verify it’s safe.”

“I understand.”

“Now, let's get you up and I want you to walk until it’s uncomfortable and then we’ll sit down for a bit.”

I didn’t say anything, but soon enough I was walking. It hurt a bit, but I put some more effort into it. I wasn’t going to stay here any longer than I needed to. I felt a little bit of trembling in my legs, but I pushed on through. A few twinges of pain hit and I—

“Taylor, hun, why don’t you sit down?” Dr. Wilkes said.

I blinked. I was sweating and I needed a little help once I let go of the rails. I was horrible.

“I see why you didn’t take me up on my bet,” Dad said to the doctor.

“Nope, I know the type. Taylor, I said ‘until it’s uncomfortable’, not until ‘my legs are about to give out.’”

“I… it wasn’t that bad.”

“Tell me, how much do you know about physical therapy?”

“A layperson’s understanding.” I was telling the truth. I hadn’t had much need to go into that. I’d have to rectify that.

“Very well. I told you ‘until it's uncomfortable’ because pushing yourself to your limits and beyond? I know Hollywood loves that trope, but it’s more likely to hurt your progress than help it. We’re not trying to establish a new record—we’re trying to help your body heal through limited and proper exercise. Now, what will you do the next time you feel uncomfortable?”

“I’ll stop,” I said.

“Taylor?” Dad asked. “Is this ‘stop for normal people’, or ‘stop for someone who uses gympie-gympie plant as an energy patch?’”

I stared at him. Dad wasn’t supposed to betray me like that, and besides, I’d had a good reason. It made perfect sense.

“Well?”

I couldn’t help it. I rolled my eyes. “Yes, Dad, I’ll act like I did when I was ten, fell off the swing, and was convinced I was going to die.”

“Really?” Dr. Wilkes asked.

“Taylor has a flair for the dramatic. It was on full display that day.” Dad looked like he was remembering something, a faint smile on his face.

“Well…” She shook her head. “I think she still has the flair for the dramatic.”

Thinking about my actions, I really couldn’t deny that.

“Very well, now let’s start again. Your vitals were actually pretty good, but remember, being a good patient is being honest, especially about any pain you’re suffering.”

“I will.” I was proud. I didn’t even sound grumpy. Not much, at least.

*****

Once I was back in my room, I examined my projected recovery. About a week, especially since Panacea would be back once or twice. That was unusual… but Dad had mentioned that Kaiser’s fall… well, nobody had really believed the Empire’s claim that Fleur’s murder was the act of a rogue, and I was evidently in good standing with New Wave.

Which would be very good, but right now, I was working on figuring out the mysteries of power and why mine was so strange. I needed an… assistant, or at least a test subject. Someone whose powers also showed signs of being atypical.

Sadly, many of those individuals were not ones I could, or honestly should, contact. The Three Blasphemies, Fairy Queen, the unknown man who had become Pastor… well, I had a feeling making them sit still for an interview would be difficult.

But we had one in the Bay.

Leet.

Feeling the loss of my full bug-powered research facilities, I made do with four screens. Oh well, I was also under observation, so I had to stick to public resources.

But I had his history.

When he’d first started, he’d been compared to Hero by some, not for his morality, but for his wide-ranging and powerful tinker skill.

And before the year was out, he was a joke.

And yet… the vast majority of powers were either static, neither improving nor degrading, or for tinkers got better as the Tinker became more skilled—often mundane skills providing a synergy with the Tinkertech.

Firetruck proved that. The former Squealer’s first new designs were still a bit bulky, but they showed an immense improvement from collaborating with experts and PRT tutoring for Firetruck herself.

And Leet went the opposite way. Reliable devices exploded or failed. He became a video game joke…

I stared at the one screen, showing a slightly frazzled Leet next to a burning ‘pizza mobile’ van.

I started writing up a little program. It’d be a bit more complex than a typical spreadsheet, but before I contacted Leet, I would need to have every publicly available instance of his tech, how long it had lasted, how it had malfunctioned, and how similar it was to anything else he’d used. I frowned, then nodded. I’d also add what games were in it…

Wait. I’d never been that interested in games. I might miss some obscure reference, not to mention…

Well, nobody said I couldn’t outsource some of this work… I checked the clock. He wouldn’t  be home, but I needed to talk to his mother first. I made the call and waited.

“Ah, hello Mrs. Veder,” I said. “I am The Investigator.” I paused, listening to her. “No, my injuries were overstated. I’m merely enduring some bed rest. But I find myself needing some research done, and was wondering if your son might help.”

“Gregory? This wouldn’t be involving him in…”

“No,” I said. “I’m collating the various game themes Leet has used, and well, I don’t… enjoy gaming, and I think Greg might be better at noting the games and any odd influences. But he would never come in contact with Leet.”

There was a pause. “Ah… Investigator. You’re asking my son to talk about games. Are you sure you know what you’re getting into?”

“In this case,” I told her. “The more information, the better.” Well, maybe not, but better too much than too little. “Greg is a minor, but in this case I’d be willing to pay… 15 dollars an hour for his work?” I let a little chuckle enter my voice. “You’d need to show him how to do a time sheet.”

“I’ll… I’ll have to talk to his father and Gregory. Gregory would have to understand that this is a job, not a game he can stop when he gets bored, though he’s been getting better.”

“Thank you. Just let me know what decision you’ve made.”

Later, I leaned back, watching some videos on one screen, while the others scrolled with information.

The Bay was quiet.

That wouldn’t last, so I’d best take advantage of the quiet while I could.