How in the hell do I explain you without them wanting to throw me straight into the nearest padded cell?

There was a sensation of shrugging, and an image of a clock with about twenty-five minutes on it.

We don't even know how you work, or what you are.

Another mental shrug.

You have my permission to alert me, mentally, if I say anything that you know is wrong.

A raised eyebrow.

I laughed internally at Wile E. and he seemed to be satisfied.

Miss Militia was watching me, closely. It was actually pretty annoying, but I guess I could understand her concern.

I started writing.

Pain comes from seeing new technologies.

The more complex they are, the more painful.

Repeat exposure or more advanced versions of the same technology cause less pain.

"What caused you to collapse when I changed my pen to a stiletto, earlier?"

I... Wile E. can you explain that in a written sentence? I sent into my mind.

There was a mental nod, so I gave him control, and he quickly wrote a response.

WTF physics.

She looked at the paper and then back at me, with a strange look of very intent scrutiny. "So, do you understand how I do this now?" She changed the pen into a stiletto again. I felt Wile E. shrink back mentally, but the pain wasn't significant.

Wile E. sent me a strong impression that he was shaking his head violently.

No, but it doesn't bother him much anymore.

"Him?" Miss Militia frowned.

Fuck. I'm an idiot.

Wile E. cackled in the recesses of my mind.

"That would certainly help explain some of your less rational actions." She raised a finger. "Multiple personality disorders are not unheard of with capes. Sometimes it's a coping mechanism that develops over time. Other times it seems to be a side effect of the power. Sometimes it existed before the trigger."

I was sane before this.

Wile E. sent me a raised eyebrow feeling.

Fuck off, I shot back, only to hear mad laughter echo loudly through my skull.

I think I'm still sane. Mostly.

"So, you are in conflict with an alternate personality in your head. Does it ever have control over your actions?" More intent scrutiny.

Yes. Sometimes.

"Does it just happen randomly, or is it triggered by events?"

I thought about it. There actually was a pattern there.

Events. When something is important, we fight. The one that wants it most gets control.

I could feel Wile E. considering that statement very closely, with a sense of tentative agreement.

"Interesting." Miss Militia steepled her fingers. "Have I been speaking with Willie for the last couple minutes?

Yes. Mostly.

"Except for here?" She tapped her stiletto where Wile E. had written 'WTF Physics.'

I stared at her. How in the hell did you guess that? I thought at her.

"I'll take that as a yes." She chuckled. "More precise handwriting. The speed that you wrote was also much greater. I've done a lot of new cape interviews and I'm pretty good at noticing things."

"So, why did you collapse outside the building a couple minutes ago? What did you see? Or did you just collapse from mental exhaustion?" She tilted her head a bit. "You aren't acting tired now."

Hard to explain.

"I have time. Mouse and I are here mainly to offer support for Richter and Eidolon. Mostly Richter. He's running a small server farm and creating custom code for interdisciplinary analysis for the scientists trying to talk to Simurgh. Eidolon is simply transporting scientists here, and needs someone on this end to monitor his teleport disks so he doesn't cut anyone in half creating them."

I think he's building a database.

"He. The other personality in your head?" A brief consideration. "There are only two of you?"

I nodded. Why not. Just let it all out.

Two of us. Willie and Wile E.

Somehow, it felt good to finally choose to stop trying to hide things. Almost like letting out my belt after Thanksgiving dinner.

"I see." She nibbled on the tip of her stiletto, then looked at me. The stiletto turned into a pen again. "What kind of database?"

I had a sense of it, sort of, but I wasn't really sure. I could feel Wile E. inspecting my thoughts, and giving them grudging acceptance.

How everything works.

I paused.

And how everything is made.

"Everything? Why not my construct?"

Wile E. sent me an image of a child in the corner with a dunce cap. The child was wearing a military uniform with Miss Militia's scarf. Then he grabbed control of our hand with the pen and stabbed the 'WTF Physics' on the pad again.

Back down, Wile E., I warned him as Miss Militia narrowed her eyes at my nonverbal outburst.

After a few seconds of staring at me, she responded again. "So, you have some sort of reverse-engineering thinker ability that works on technology that you can understand? When you overload it or see something unexplainable, it causes you pain, and can even knock you out?"

Yes.

Miss Militia nodded. "Interesting. So, back to what happened before outside. What did you see that made you collapse?"

I remembered back.

I thought about how much time it would take to fix the runway.

"I don't get it. How does that impact your power?"

Wile E. went back and amended everything.

"Amended everything?" Miss Militia cocked her head slightly to the side. "I'm missing something."

OK. Let me think.

She nodded, and I tossed ideas against the inside of my skull. Wile E. and I discussed nonverbally on a level that I really can't describe.

I flipped to the next blank page.

OK. In order.

First. Identify function.

Second. Identify materials and physics

Third. Identify assembly process

Fourth. Reverse engineer machines and processes used to manufacture components

Fifth. Reverse engineer materials and processes used to make machines used to make components. Reiterate.

I drew a line.

-

This was all at first.

Outside I made Wile E. realize it took time to create things with real physics.

He had not thought of that as part of the definition of items.

So he calculated human labor, scheduling, raw materials acquisition for everything we'd seen before.

That knocked me out.

Miss Militia turned the pad a little towards her so she could read it easier, and stared at it a second, then looked at me. "You are saying you can see something man-made, and see exactly how it works, how it was put together, and how the parts were made. You also see the machines that made it, and how those machines that made it were made. You see labor and materials requirements. You see, say, a pen," She pointed at the pen in my hand. "and you see everything it took to make the pen?"

Wile E. was indicating there was something was wrong. I reached out my hand and Miss Militia pushed the pad at us.

Wile E. took hand control again and wrote

Not exactly. Best guess.

I remembered the cooling system in the freezer, how it had started out as many possible designs until Wile E. had been able to gather enough data to figure it out exactly. Wile E. inspected that thought and enthusiastically agreed. He showed me his labor and raw materials calculations for several example items and I could see that the equations were precise, yet there were many variables in those precise equations that were defined by value ranges as opposed to specific values. The precision grew as the process grew closer to the end product that we had seen.

Analysis less precise the farther from end product.

"We're getting outside of my knowledge." She looked at me. "That sounds more like a thinker power than a tinker power though."

Wile E. didn't have any comment on that. She had a point. We'd been told we were getting a tinker power though.

I heard the water stop moving in the pipes. Miss Militia's eyes looked up above my head, and she tried to repress a smile. A second later she spoke. "So how does that have anything to do with summoning things, or is summoning things completely separate."

I... Wile E. I have no idea. Can you explain it?

Wile E. took over our hands while snorting at me mentally with an 'of course' feel.

I define it, then it exists.

Miss Militia stared at me. "Just like that? You want something, it exists?"

No. Must be FULLY defined.

Miss Militia's eyes crossed slightly. "Some of your constructs have been analyzed. We can't define them."

I made them up. I defined them. Fully, but null variables.

I heard someone walking across the floor in a nearby hallway. Wile E. had looked down the hallway earlier, and immediately started running calculations. Mouse Protector was walking down the hallway. The sound waveforms indicated she was wearing three towels and bunny slippers. The left slipper had a missing ear.

Miss Militia frowned. "I'm sure I don't get it."

Wile E. was starting to feel a bit irritable in my head.

Assign values to unknown variables. Create constructs. Modify constructs. I cheat.

"This is Wile E. writing." It wasn't a question.

Yes.

"How are your constructs different from mine?"

Similar but not same. I fully define constructs. You do not. Yours change. Shift. Modify. No reason. Pen dimensions change slightly as I watch. Stiletto same. Even when not using, always shifting. Suspect conscious choice of construct but subconscious definition.

Miss Militia's eyes got bigger. "Wait. So the reason why your summoned constructs are unreal looking is because you simply make up some of what is needed to define them?"

Exactly. Good.

Wile E. reached out and patted her hand patronizingly, and the look she shot us back was briefly furious, then faded to a flat stare.

Wile E., you are an idiot. I wrenched control of our hands from Wile E.

I could feel the rage in him beginning to build. Quickly.

About people! You're an idiot about people!

The rage stumbled and halted. There was a sense of agreement and apology.

I came fully to my senses and found my hands on the sides of my head. Miss Militia was looking at me with a suspicious near-glare.

I flipped the page to get what Wile E. had written off the top.

Sorry. Wile E. is rude.

There was a mental huff and a sense of a back turning on me.

I barely heard a door open. It was the same door Richter had gone into. Wile E constructed a wire diagram showing Mouse Protector in three towels and bunny slippers ever so slowly pushing the door open. I could feel a vast amusement coming from Wile E, and a sense of respect.

I realized I was watching Mouse Protector sneaking up on Richter. Don't you dare do anything, Wile E. I paused. Well, let me keep watching, but don't interfere.

Miss Militia's face relaxed a little. "Let me think about things for a minute. Something is bouncing around in my head. I'm going to make coffee. Do you want some?"

I don't know if I can drink coffee.

Wile E. sent me an affirmative.

Well, I know now. Yes. Please.

Standing, she walked a couple steps to a small, cheap coffee machine and started preparing a filter full of coffee she looked at me. "It sounds like your second personality is acting as some sort of an instruction manual for your power."

Wile E. thought about that, and agreed, tentatively. I nodded.

Sighing, Miss Militia filled the machine with water and turned it on, then pulled a couple cups from a cabinet over the sink. "Must be nice. There's a lot of people in this world that would love instruction manuals for powers." There was a bitterness in her voice. Then she clearly made a decision. "Do you remember getting your powers?"

The wireframe drawing of Mouse Protector sneaking up on Richter popped like a soap bubble. An image of Contessa appeared in my mind, in full fidelity, turning to face me, pointing that gun at me. My blood went cold.

Miss Militia was holding her hands up, not like she was giving up, but like she'd messed up. "Whoah. Calm. Sorry. I didn't ask that right. I don't mean what happened to you to make you trigger. I meant, do you remember the darkness, do you remember any odd images or a strange dream."

After a second, I was able to parse what she had said. I didn't have any memories of dreams, just darkness. I shook my head.

Miss Militia frowned. "I was hoping, maybe, because our powers seem... Never mind." She heaved a deep sigh.

Wile E. was already back to tracking Mouse Protector in a wireframe diagram as she slowly crossed the floor towards Richter. The image of the room grew more detailed with each second as the sounds of fans and Richter typing bounced off of surfaces in the room and then out the door, down the hall to where we sat.

Miss Militia was leaning up against the counter, twirling her stiletto absently and looking alternately at us and at the coffee pot while it gurgled and made coffee. The smell was intense. I'd never smelled coffee that strong before.

Wile E. snickered in my mind.

What?

He took control of our hands and touched our nose.

Ah. I see. Better sense of smell.

I stopped paying attention to Miss Militia and turned my attention inward to the practical joke that Wile E. was tracking for us.

Mouse Protector was standing less than an arm's length behind Richter's chair. She raised her fingers to her mouth and then lunged, putting a wet finger in each of Richter's ears.

Richter yelled in an almost-scream. "Goddammit Mouse!" His chair spun around and Mouse Protector hopped back a couple feet, nimbly. Richter was frantically rubbing at his ears, head down. After several seconds of rubbing, he looked up and Mouse was standing there, in a heroic pose, hands on hips.

After Richter had been staring at her for about half a second, Mouse Protector puffed out her chest and looked up and to one side. "Once again, the world is saved from dreary boredom by Mouse Protector! Ha! Ha!"

I heard a slap and focused on Miss Militia who had her right palm squarely planted on her forehead.

I turned my attention back, inwardly, to the wireframe diagram, and continued watching.

Richter stared for about three seconds and then whispered. "Mouse, go get some clothes on."

Mouse Protector leaned way forward, obviously intentionally showing significant cleavage, and whispered back. "No. You're married and I've met Alice. I don't have anything you haven't seen, and I'm not showing more than this. Think of it as relaxation material for later on if you want. I'm no home-wrecker, and you know it."

"You're doing it to piss me off then?" he countered in a low, angry voice as he swung his chair around back towards the keyboards in front of him.

Still in a conspiratorial tone, she answered. "Nah, I'm doing it because I want to watch MM interview him."

"You can watch the recording later." Richter hissed. "Go get decent."

"I'm hurt, Richter. I'm always better than decent. I'm awesome." She shot back.

He hunched forward in his chair with terrible posture and grumbled things under his breath that even Wile E. couldn't hear well enough to be sure of.

Mouse Protector hopped up behind his chair and put her crossed arms over the top of the backrest, and then set her chin on her arms, clearly watching the monitors. She went almost completely still. She seemed to be barely breathing, and the only reason we knew she was in the room was due to sound reflections from all the computer fans and Richter's heavy, angry typing sounds.

Wile E. and I were both mentally howling in laughter. It was all I could do to avoid falling to the floor.

Miss Militia started moving towards me, watching me intently. She was carrying two coffee cups on a large saucer in her left hand, and her pen in her right. As she sat down, she said. "OK, so you somehow cheat when you create your constructs. I'm guessing you make them as simple as you can, only defining them sufficiently to do the job you want to do with them?"

That seemed right, and Wile E. sent an absent agreement, so I nodded.

"But" she continued. "You can define things more accurately?"

Wile E. pulled the pad towards us and rapidly wrote.

Harder. More accurate = harder.

Miss Militia looked at the pad and pushed out coffee cup over to us, and pointed at the little rotating gizmo on the table with sugar and salt and pepper and other spices. "Make it how you like it."

I just picked up the cup, and started bringing it to our mouth.

I could feel Wile E. intently waiting, watching, prepared to laugh.

I stared at the cup and it struck me what he was waiting for. I can't drink out of a cup, Wile E. Can you make a straw that won't melt?

I learned what 'Curses, foiled again' felt like in my head before there was a moment of concentration and a bright red straw appeared in our hand. I put it in the cup and managed to create a vacuum lock with our lips on the straw, and sucked in a bit of coffee.

The coffee was strong. I spluttered a little but didn't splash anything on Miss Militia, I didn't think.

Holy crap, Wile E, is she trying to poison us? Oh wait. Enhanced smell. Enhanced taste too?

There was a humorous nodding sensation from my head-mate.

"Enhanced senses too?" Miss Militia mused. "Makes sense, I suppose, to help you precisely define things."

I nodded to her.

"So, how real can you make things?" She picked up a plastic spoon. Could you make a plastic spoon like this one, or can you only make a cartoon spoon?"

Wile E. seemed irritated and confused by her statement. I picked up why after a second to two, and wrote on the pad.

Why make complex? K.I.S.S.

Miss Militia nodded. "Definitely makes sense. But can you make something fully defined so that it's not a cartoon thing?"

There was a sense of 'yes but I'd rather not' echoing powerfully through my mind.

Wile E. can you do it without hurting us? If so, I have an idea. I sent him the idea. There was a brief irritation, followed by an evil mental grin. A strong sense of agreement with an extra-large helping of mischief on top followed rapidly. I was almost more amused by Wile E.'s reactions than my own expectations.

I felt Wile E. starting to concentrate, and it was a heavy concentration unlike any I'd felt before.

I wrote on the pad.

Making something fully defined now. Small. Simple.

Miss Militia nodded, but tensed up a bit.

I felt Wile E. taking the raw design and starting to define the variables. The steps fell into place, the design grew more and more complex. It felt somehow heavy in our head. The more data he added, the heavier the concept felt.

After about ten seconds, Wile E had defined all of the variables and the image that had started in our mind as a wireframe diagram was now complete, looking real. The data behind the image was immense. It was shocking how much detail could be crammed into something so inconsequential.

Wile E. took control of our left hand and laid it palm-up on the table a foot or so from the pad of paper. He started concentrating hard.

I heard Mouse Protector starting to speak, her voice barely audible over all the fans in the other room. "What's he doing Richter? He's just holding his hand out like a Jedi or something."

"How am I supposed to know? I can't see what he wrote from this angle." Richter hissed back.

About ten seconds later, a small, pink, left-footed bunny slipper with a missing ear popped into existence in our hand.

I heard her whisper, barely audible "What? No way. It's not even the right color."

I shot a thought to Wile E. He concentrated for another two seconds. The slipper changed from pink to grey.

There was about a second of silence before the reaction. "Don't you look at me, Genius! I'm not dressed!" Mouse Protector said loudly as she stormed down the hall.

"Why do you care? Aren't you awesome?" Richter chuckled.

"You're married. That's different." There were loud stomping and door-slamming noises as Mouse Protector left Richter's room, went down the hallway, and into another room.

I was clutching my chest and leaning back in my chair, thumping my feet on the ground as Wile E. showed me the wireframe diagram of Mouse Protector walking down the hallway stiff-legged, smacking her heels hard as she walked, holding her chest and waist towels with one hand each.

Miss Militia picked up the slipper, and rubbed it with one hand, smiling a little. "About those enhanced senses, Genius?"