Seed 1.2

There was something to be said about the feeling of proving the naysayers wrong. They had told her that she would never be able to see again. The high of proving them not only wrong, but hilariously wrong, was a high that she was still running on, four days later.

That wasn't to say she was satisfied with herself. Nor was she willing to rest on her laurels. Far from it, the Focus, as she called it, was merely a proof of concept, cobbled together from various components that were not purpose-built to fulfill the purpose that they were achieving here. If she were to be honest, it was a small miracle it was performing as well as it was, considering.

For everything it could do, there were significant limitations linked to the hardware itself. The imagery it created and fed to her brain were cast in a ghostly purple-blue-violet, with limited fidelity, providing more of a rough shape and outline than a concrete image. Then there was the issue of the imagery losing cohesion if you turned your head too quickly, or if the object surpassed a certain velocity. The less said about range, the better, fidelity collapsed after five meters, with it completely lost at eight.

The battery was about what she expected. It gave her about an hour of power before it ran out. That was, of course, dependent on that she didn't didn't abuse the refresh function. Then it ran down as low as ten minutes.

But that was all hardware limitations, something that could easily be fixed with purpose-built components and better materials. What mattered at the heart of it all was the operating software. Sobek, the name she had given it at the suggestion of her power, worked perfectly. As a matter of fact, it actually exceeded her own expectations, despite the fact that she had literally been fed the script line by line.

For all of its limitations and drawbacks, the Focus was a piece of engineering marvel. Even she could understand the tech and concepts were several generations in advance of what currently existed. Just the fact that it was working as well as it was simply miraculous.

Of course, therein lay the problem.

It all came down to capital. Building a purpose-built, possibly limited-run model of the Focus for the visually impaired was costly, but it was the commercial version that she had planned meant for multipurpose use that would both revolutionize the world and be the single most costly starting endeavor, from creating the production methods, forges, and logistical network to support it. At least until Phase IV, when things would really begin to accelerate as she would have enough capital to flex her power and knowledge.

But the one major block into all of this lay not in any one person, but a congressional act passed to protect the economy from too much influence from capes, NEPEA-5. Oh, she could understand it on paper, the worry about the impact Thinkers would have on the economy, and the dependency created by using Tinkertech for any project, if the Tinker died, how would it be maintained. That was how it was largely sold, but when she had written a report on it, she had noted that there were so many loopholes and backdoors that benefited only the government and corporate fiefdoms with ties to the aforementioned, that it was obvious it was control and manipulate capes into one of two outcomes, either become an asset of the state or corporations, or become a villain.

It was both brilliant and insidious at the same time, and if it wasn't the source of her problems, she may just give credit to the writers where it was due.

But it all came back to the fact that by legal definition, she was a cape. Which made her vulnerable to NEPEA-5 and its labyrinthine example of lawfare cloaked as protection for John and Jane Q. Public.

There were a few workarounds she could use. But at the end of the day, it all came down to whether the responsible agencies of the government classified her technology as Tinkertech

If it wasn't depressing she may have found it funny: But the rule of thumb the PRT and Protectorate was pretty much a bastardization of Clarke's Law where any sufficiently advanced technology was Tinkertech. Of course, there were caveats to this rule, where reproducibility could remove the label, but the onus was on the cape to prove it, not the government.

It was this stacked deck she had began chipping away at a month ago with the assistance of her power, creating blueprints not only for the proof of concept Focus, but the production design as well. Furthermore, she had prepared patent applications for the commercial version, and depending on how her meeting with the Protectorate went, then she would submit that one as well. If she could provide the various points of evidence that undermined the salient point of their standards, then it would provide her options in the event that they did decide to classify her technology as tinkertech.

Which, on one hand, she could understand if they did so. The technology stuck in her head were several decades in advance of what existed on Earth Aleph that may as well be Tinkertech, considering the advanced materials and understandings necessary to field a production model Focus. Which was also why she was preparing several papers to send to scientific and medical journals so she could attack the overarching problem of technology differential. If she could get these establishments to understand the underlying principles and the feasibility of what she was working toward, then it would make her life and job much easier.

But it all had to start here. How her meeting the PRT and Protectorate went would decide how she would need to proceed.

And so far, she was less than impressed, sitting here in a meeting room awaiting for whatever government official they decided to foist the issue upon. Her father was currently outside, as she wanted to do this herself. On the surface, it'd probably be unwise, but the issue was that she needed to both establish herself, but also not muddle the waters with the Protectorate that this was her father using her. She needed the credibility in order to be successful, and relying upon her father to win her battles would not be beneficial, especially considering how the world would view her through the lens of her 'disability'.

So there she sat, with both her laptop and the hatbox with her Focus, waiting for whatever government agent they deigned to send to her. She was hopeful she at least got a fair one, but she wasn't going to delude herself.

As if summoned, the door to the room opened.

"Miss Hebert, I'm," he trailed off. She had to restrain a sigh as she knew exactly why he had stopped. It had only grown tedious, even if she had only encountered it more in the last few days: that people would pause whenever they laid their eyes on her.

"This is Agent Faro," a woman's voice interjected quickly, "and I'm Battery."

"Nice to meet you," she greeted, though she had to wonder exactly why Battery would be here. The Protectorate cape was not a Tinker of any kind, so it wouldn't make sense for her to do any analysis of it.

"So, Miss Hebert, you want to join the Wards," Faro started, not offering an apology for his faux pas as he simply barreled on, "you do understand falsely applying to the Protectorate is a criminal offense with a penalty of five years in prison and a fine of fifty thousand dollars?

Are you serious, she had to refrain herself from asking, not quite believing what was taking place. But it was not worth losing her cool over, it may have been a mix up, though Faro's attitude was getting under her nerves.

Taking a deep cleansing breath and burying her irritation for now, reminding herself she was still fifteen to them and didn't have a knowledge base of technologies decades in advance of anything mainstream, she offered a smile even if it pulled at the muscle. A petty part of her hoped it made Faro uncomfortable.

"I'm sorry there must have been a miscommunication. The reason I am here is actually to get certification that my creations are not tinkertech."

"Excuse me," Faro spoke again, incredulity laced heavily in his tone. She let her smile turn into a frown, because it was becoming obvious that Faro had a problem with her. Even if there wasn't a miscommunication, if you were coming in to possibly recruit someone, you wouldn't be a complete and utter asshole out of the gates.

"If there was a miscommunication, I am sorry," it was Battery that then spoke up, though the way it sounded, her head was turned away from her, probably staring down Faro, "I'm not exactly an expert on Tinkertech, we usually leave that to Armsmaster, but he is currently on The Rig."

She had to bite back an irritated retort. Honestly, why was she surprised, it seemed to be par for the course in her life when dealing with any type of governmental organization. Instead, she just let out a sigh that held back only a tad bit of disappointment.

"Then I guess our business here is concluded," she declared, gathering herself to her feet and extending her cane.

"Please wait," Battery cut in, causing Taylor to turn her head to look at her, "I think we all got off on the wrong foot. I know I can't help you with your Tinkertech-"

"It's not Tinkertech," Taylor cut in.

"That may be," Battery quickly adjusted, "but you still have powers, Miss Hebert. If you really are as you claim to be, then wouldn't it be better to join with the Wards? Tinkers are highly coveted in the world today. With the Protectorate, you could have a place to work and safety from those who may not have your best interests at heart."

"As compared to who," she asked archly, now letting her irritation bleed through, she hadn't come here to be recruited into the Wards, yet they were trying to push her into it, after messing up in the first place, "you sit there and claim you would have my best interests at heart, but so far, I don't see it. You haven't asked me what my powers are, or what my device does, instead you've gone for trying to soft-selling me something I didn't come here for."

"I apologize if you feel that way, Miss Hebert. Perhaps we could reschedule?"

"Perhaps," she offered, extending the olive branch, while she was certainly frustrated by what had taken place, it shouldn't slam the door between them. It may be that she would eventually end up with the Protectorate, it may not, but she would be a fool to rule it out.

Turning, she headed toward the door, keeping her cane at the ready, though she knew the path back.

[center]AEH[/center]

"Battery, Director Piggot is in a meeting-."

"I don't care, Janet," she responded, storming up to the door and rapping on it, before opening and storming inside, closing the door behind her.

Inside, a squat, rotund woman with a blonde bob-cut hairdo sat behind a desk, her focus snapping up from the computer she paying attention to, her eyes narrowing in irritation at the interruption, "I apologize, Johnathan, can we continue this at another time, it appears that something has come up that needs my attention."

"Understandable, Emily. How about tomorrow around two?"

"That should work, by then I should have everything ready."

"Very well, until tomorrow."

"Tomorrow."

With that, Emily Piggot, Director of the PRT ENE, cut the video link, looking back to her, "You better have a good explanation on why you decided to barge into my office while I was in a meeting discussing Shadow Stalker's reassignment, Battery."

Truth be told, Erin Moore née Maxwell did not like Piggot, professionally and otherwise. The woman was not subtle with her disdain for capes, at times not even making the effort of showing her hatred for both the Protectorate and villains equally. Emily Piggot checked every box in everything her police officer father had warned her about toxic leadership creating a burgeoning clusterfuck that would only end in scandal or tragedy, or both.

But she also believed that she had to work within the system as well, because going outside would only bring more problems for everyone. Which, in this case, she was following the chain of command and going to the person who should be made aware of what was going on.

"I want an immediate investigation and formal note of censure entered in the file of Agent Theodore Faro."

There was a moment of silence as Piggot's beady eyes narrowed, "Explain," she tersely demanded.

"You are aware that we had a prospective Ward candidate come in today."

"I was made aware this morning, yes. Where is this going?"

"First. It wasn't a Ward interview, Director, it was a meeting to inspect Tinkertech requested by a Tinker. Second. Faro, within less than two minutes of the meeting started, began threatening the Tinker with a fine and jail time for falsely applying to the Wards. Third, and most importantly, that Tinker's name was Taylor Hebert."

There was an even longer pause, as Piggot seemed to process it for a moment, before she closed her eyes and reached up to rub the bridge of her nose, inhaling a deep breath, releasing in accompaniment a simple and concise, "Fuck."

Each Protectorate and PRT station had what was internally referred to simply as the "Red List", it was a list of individuals who were of interest to the department, or were highlighted that any interactions that took place between the principal and the department were to be strictly controlled and kept cordial, in order of escalating known issues. In this case, Taylor Hebert was on that list because one Sophia Hess, better known within the department as the Ward Shadow Stalker, had been involved in an extended bullying campaign against her. And while Hess hadn't been involved in the attack that had left Hebert scarred and blind, she had been brought into focus during the FBI investigation. Her identity as Shadow Stalker was protected, but it was a very thin veneer that put ENE in a precarious position that could open it to scandal and censure.

Suffice to say, the standing orders regarding Hebert were to be as hands off as possible. Though, further up, only privy to those of a high enough clearance, to add Hebert to a watch list as the teenager ticked quite a few of the boxes for classical trigger conditions. If she did trigger, then they could deal with the issue behind closed doors, all the while burying the full extent of Hess' malfeasance.

"How bad is it," Piggot finally asked.

"It's still salvageable, Director. Hebert was open to possibly having another meeting. I would, however, recommend we take a lighter touch on her. She was rather annoyed at how badly we handled the entire situation."

"And do we even know what her Tinkertech is?"

"Unfortunately, no. All I can say is that it was kept in a box that she could carry with no difficulty."

Piggot sat there, considering her words, and Battery had to wonder what was going through the other woman's head. Piggot was dedicated to the cause, even if her personal opinions clouded her judgment from time to time, but Hebert was a delicate balancing act in the best of situations.

"We'll give it a few days, let things cool down. Reach out to some of your contacts in the police force, see if they'll be amicable to keep an eye out for anything going on around the Hebert's. I doubt anything will happen, but it's best to be safe in the event that there are any leaks."

"Will do. And after that?"

"We'll give Hebert what she wants. Let Armsmaster know what took place, and tell him to make sure his schedule is clear soon. Once we have his report, we'll go from there, but I do not want a repeat of today. I'll deal with Faro."