Alex looked up, the light of the day filtering through his window. Surrounding him were tablets, laptops, and mobile phones, each having its own tendrils and eye assigned to it. As much as the slow, leisurely research appealed to his more human side, this was the most efficient and fastest way of collecting centuries worth of information. Even then there was so much still to catch up on.
It also didn't hurt to see what kind of research and breakthroughs that had happened the last few centuries, and figure out his own project.
Ever since settling into Wakō, a city located in Saitama Prefecture, Mercer had felt a sort of calm and excitement. He had a future ahead of him that would help not just Japan, but all Humanity. The city had become a high tech hub for scientists and entrepreneurs, with the successes attracting others, leading to a self-sustaining cycle of visiting and permanent population of foreign researchers. Of course, the fantastic sights couldn't draw him away from his more earthly problems.
Surrounding him was a mess of crumbs and scraps of flesh so small it wasn't worth the calories to grab them. His enormous appetite was an unfortunate issue considering his sky-high metabolism and needs, even at rest. The government food allowance forced him to slowly adjust his body to a lesser form. Unless he had a quick injection of sizable biomass, he wouldn't be fist fighting tanks or taking missiles to the face and winning anytime soon. Solutions ranged from rat catching, discreet stray animal consumption, to converting raw biological sewage and waste to something usable. He definitely wasn't desperate enough yet, so he kept scaling down his high cost mutations.
Finishing the last of his reading, he ignored the shower and went straight to the closet. He could have shifted his flesh into whatever configuration he desired. But picking up his own outfits helped make him feel more human. He confidently walked outside the door, leaving the ghosts behind. He finally felt like he had a sense of where he was going.
The stairwell was clean, but visibly old. No shouting or the cries of kids here. It lacked character or culture. It was a place for people of modest means to commute to Tokyo or Riken. The block was well kept, but outside the bubble, rougher surroundings abounded. The government wasn't exactly eager to splurge on safer surroundings. Alex didn't mind. At any point, he was the danger.
Ambling along a street filled with the early morning crowd towards the train station, he saw various vendors serving a variety of foods. He grabbed culinary delights from all over the world in the span of a mere hundred feet worth of walking. Japan helped snag various scientists due to its relative stability over the decades, and each success built on another, until there was a substantial population of visiting and permanent foreign scientists residing in Wakō.
Mercer could identify some languages, some he didn't know or only vaguely recognized. Some were serious, some were humorous, others were combative. Most of them involved their scientific field or a problem in the lab. One particular complaint was being denied funding again because of their department head having another spat with the new administration.
He was dressed in an immaculate suit he bought himself. Alex didn't expect to do any actual in-depth science today. One part was to meet and greet his new team, another part making a good impression.
It was a bustling city, a far cry from the declining birth rate crisis Mercer knew in his day. It was also quite anachronistic, technologically advanced buildings alongside far older and recognizable buildings to him. He had to make minute adjustments to his sensory organs. He didn't need overspecialized senses for being a normal human, after all.
High-tech digital screens displayed advertisements for medical supplements allegedly designed to enhance Quirk usage, another for a law firm advertising services for those hurt in Hero/Villain fights.
That wasn't all it was. Honest to god robots. Clunky, large things, but with enough processing power to be able to pick trash and avoid collisions. Mercer knew from his memories that large scale commercial robotics in his time was barely in its infancy, decades away and only a sci-fi dream.
He also saw the ugly side of the future. Wakō, even with its proximity to Tokyo and the importance of its institutions, seemed to have visible crime every day. Muggings, petty and large theft sprees, even public battles with heroes using destructive metahuman abilities. Not even the worst parts of New York before the Outbreak had been this bad. The homeless were only a few feet away from bustling mall centers, with some mutant-types looking starved and haggard. Alex had done his own research into as many aspects of history and society as he could, benefitting from not needing to sleep. Success led many to come here. Those that failed to grasp prosperity, fell into poverty or crime.
Arriving at the train, Mercer's enhanced senses were affected by the deluge of humanity. At least the oppressive heat didn't bother him. Both his bodily regulations and tolerances were high considering his past experiences. But he kept his five senses sharp and evolved to perfection, which meant he could pick out everyone's unique perspiration odor overlaid with cheap and expensive cologne or perfume. Alex, using only his nose, could make out the self-segregation of the various economic classes. Generally the better off kept to their own corners like the working class with their own enclave.
His keen vision could home in on the fibers of their clothing itself. There was a visible difference in fabrics and material, further proving his hunch on class division. The silk wearers mingled with linen enjoyers, while rough cotton and cheap suits kept to their own areas. It was all so pointless to him, which was why he was one of the few oddballs standing in the middle. Having consumed the young, old, rich and poor, he had an intimate view of the world perhaps better than anyone else alive. New York City was the melting pot, and he took as much as he saved. His separation from Humanity further enhanced his own views on the matter. He was the lone mimic tree that saw every individual tree and the whole forest as one.
Alex overheard a smorgasbord of languages. Two darker skinned men than much of the crowd argued over "ghost particles'' and their effect on quantum microscopes. Another casual conversation switched languages every few minutes, talking about their work in German, Urdu, then Swahili with the ease and practice of someone trusting the jargon to carry on meaning where they forgot a particular word. Language held so much power. Hundreds of ways to describe the same thing in unique ways. Those who knew more languages could express themselves so much better. Along with obviously helping deter eavesdroppers, or impressing others with their polyglot status.
A woman with disheveled hair and clothing even at these early hours, ranted in Japanese about how her team leader expected miracles in their solution to the efficiency bottleneck in experimental weapons production. It seemed like the team leader was looking for a promotion by building a ladder of successes. Unfortunately, they were driving the team into the ground. Ambition was overextending their team to the breaking point. Mercer could feel some dregs of sympathy, but ultimately it was second hand. He rarely encountered issues before Penn Station. Everything came naturally to Dr. Mercer, including turning straw to gold. He was an indispensable part of Blacklight until he wasn't.
Alex turned away and focused on the sights, emptying his mind of distractions and eavesdropping. He looked at anachronistic sights, ultra modern, technologically advanced buildings and vehicles next to places that were old even when Mercer existed. He kept thinking about future project plans. He wasn't sure ultimately about what his big splash would be, but he was getting there.
Then came Riken, the scientific jewel of progress in Japan. It had expanded greatly from his day, greedily consuming the area around it with newer campuses, research centers, and outrageous living quarters for the top echelon. It even warranted its own exclusive train and subway station stop.
Like most things that last longer than a century, its history piles up with unsavory matters. As the institute grew, so too did its rapacious appetite for growth. It consumed parks, businesses, and homes. The city grew away, and yet Riken kept needing more. The locals had never forgiven Riken or the national government. The local government had to always balance between the edges of the factions, the people who voted for them, the notoriety and success given by the prestigious institute. The crime rate in Wakō could be neatly divided by property values and distance to Riken. The crime ridden, poorly built neighborhoods further away from the institute were in contrast to the accommodations and homes for the ultra wealthy or the communities of scientists and researchers. The march of progress bulldozed dreams, doorsteps, and domiciles. Of course those neat lines blurred at the borders. The national government in response to spread out Hero agencies, often employed legal mercenary groups.
That of course, was another can of worms, the rise of legal and armed groups contracted by the government to protect specific sites or assets without government responsibility. They defended and patrolled key housing areas. They weren't allowed to use Quirks, but ironically had no issues with firepower or hesitated in its usage. The buildings with scientist majority populations and their dependents tended to have discreet armed guards. Legal mercenaries had never been more successful in their post-Quirk world.
And they weren't exactly nice in their job, leaving an ever more angry local population.
Alex banished such thoughts away as the train came to a stop. Interns, scientists, security guards and the oil that kept the gears running all flooded into the various buildings. Mercer kept walking long after much of the crowd had found their destinations. He finally arrived at the government's own building personally for him. As befitted all public buildings with no private investment, it was utilitarian and ugly as sin. And like all buildings of that nature, there was a human desire to transform, to leave their own mark. A barely visible sticker on the outside wall, advertising a niche, underground band. A lush, well tended plant visible through a window. And a rather childish looking teru-teru-bozu clothed in a lab coat hanging by a window. He immediately took a liking to it. Genetics and microbiology frequently featured the unassuming and small overlooked details, after all. A lone security guard buzzed him in, her gaze on metahuman Sumo wrestling instead of welcoming him. He leisurely walked the stairs rather than the elevator, preferring to be on the move.
When he arrived on the third floor, he found a crowd waiting for him, murmuring and talking.
He walked up to the closest person, with a large cyclopean eye. Mercer tapped them on the shoulder. "What's going on with the crowd?"
"We're waiting on the project lead, some frozen popsicle. They're supposed to have the keys I'm sure. All the doors are locked." He was grumbling as he said this.
Mercer frowned. "No one told me I was supposed to have the keys."
The cyclops metahuman slowly turned around and really looked at him.
Realizing his mistake, he gave a short bow. "Welcome to the twenty-third century boss, as you can see, we're still the same humans as we always were. Putting our foot in mouth and waiting on a janitor. " He fidgeted for a second before remembering his manners.
"Hitotsume Katame, at your service."
Alex decided to take charge of the absurd situation. People took no notice of him until doors started popping open, one by one. They saw his hand separate into a multitude of tendrils worming their way into the locks.
There was a muted cheer as everyone started to hurry into their respective rooms. Alex saw a variety of name tags. The government had really stuck to their bargain out of confidence or desperation. He noticed their name tags also displayed their field.
Economists, sociologists, anthropologists, and political scientists rubbed shoulders with microbiologists, biochemists, and geneticists. As people set up their workstations and personal touches, Mercer took an impromptu tour. The entire floor was his domain. Computers, server racks, and specialized equipment was plentiful, albeit cramped. Centrifuges, sterilizing stations, freezers and genetic sequencers galore. They could do anything on this floor with little to no outsourcing to other labs. A self-sufficient paradise. A more cynical mind would have said it was to minimize contact with anyone outside more than necessary.
In the center of the entire level, there was a meeting room large enough to fit everyone, but packed in like sardines.
Mercer's obvious place was at the wall opposite of the entrance, a small raised podium waiting for him.
After he made his way to the front, others soon followed into the room.
Standing before a mixed crowd, Alex surveyed the audience. They were there because the government wanted them here. They were here for the prestige of working with the oldest living scientist on the planet, before the advent of Quirks.
They were here for the same reason as a young Dr. Alexander J. Mercer joined a shady company like Gentek. This was their chance at greatness. To be a part of something spectacular. To carve their name into history, even if only as a cited footnote.
The murmuring came to a stop once everyone noticed his attention on them. Alex had led teams, but ultimately reported to others. Here, on Level Three, he was the ultimate authority. What projects they'd commit to, who was assigned where, and if they stayed on the team.
"My name is Doctor Mercer. You have all been chosen by the government for your skills and drive to succeed. They've placed me here and given me full discretion on our future plans. I'm sure you've all heard about who I am, and where I came from." He paused for impact, having them right where he wanted them.
"It's irrelevant. Your own past and circumstances are irrelevant. What matters here are results. My skills and expertise are varied and wide, but I cannot do it alone. All science is team science. Karl Popper once explained that we, as researchers, must confront problems whose complexities intersect across many fields and disciplines. It is all too often that scientists of many fields often self-segregate themselves from their colleagues. What does a geneticist need with an economist, after all? But no field is a far off island. Every field intersects and mingles with each other. We need each other to interpret and reinterpret data through multiple eyes, to identify potential bias, to see an angle that others are too tunnel visioned to see. Even to present and explain our findings, we need to respect the fact that our discoveries may have world wide effects on society. Even the language explaining it must be carefully vetted and scrutinized. I know from first hand experience what happens when you strip empathy, human emotion, and ethics from purely scientific endeavors. It leads to absolute catastrophe." Mercer enthralled the audience as he hit a fervor pitch in his speech.
"I wasn't paid to feel" "Maintained objectivity. It helps if the test subject does not know that he or she is taking part in a test." "You're not paid to think.".
He let the words settle into the audience, and saw some tilted heads along with a slew of microexpressions. Some of the scientists seemed to consider his words, moreso since he was their boss. Others seemed to carefully blank out, and for now it was hard to tell what the defensive posture was guarding against.
"All words spoken to deflect blame or any responsibility. Everything here will be aboveboard, and for the advancement of all humanity. We are here to solve problems, not create them." His impassioned speech hooked in the crowd, all the oratory skills of all he's consumed combining with his own natural ferocious charisma.
"Look to your left, your right, and behind you. These will be the colleagues you will depend on for as long as you are here. We are not here for a single project, a short aim. We are here to tackle the fundamental problems of society. We are here to shine a light on places and research no one even thought of to do because of all the ruin and chaos the last few centuries had in fracturing every field imaginable." Mercer looked across his audience, making frequent eye contact with as many as he could.
"That is why for our first collaboration, we will be working parallel with each other. Each one of our "trains" will collect the passengers of knowledge, but ultimately we will arrive at the same destination. Each one of your department heads will confer with their overall teams in suggesting an avenue of research. I myself have a few ideas going forward." There was a round of excited applause and discussions breaking out. Most of them had to work for projects for the sake of publishing or staying relevant, not because they wanted to. Mercer continued after the noise died down. "Make no mistake, this is no top-down organization. Everyone is free to suggest and put forward their own ideas to pursue. But when we reach consensus, you are expected to work as hard as anyone to see it through." Mercer could make out a few murmurs here and there. He was pleased to see the positive impressions. This was the beginning of something grandiose, he was sure.
All for One, between taking advantage of All Might and Endeavor being busy, only now realized what's been happening in the news. A glass breaks in his hand, full of 2077 California wine, a terrible year for the world, but a fine taste. Collections of Meiji-era ceramics around his favorite penthouse start spontaneous breaking. He couldn't articulate his feelings. Never before since he was a child had he felt so vulnerable. Just seeing that man's face after he seemingly dropped off the face of the Earth made him feel like a child.
Memories he hadn't thought of in decades. Years of trying to uncover the cover up and any scraps of knowledge about what really happened in New York City. Only to end up finding moldering corpses or ashes.
It was like the world forgot about the Outbreak. Like it was just a deranged fever dream. But he never forgot. Perhaps the coming disasters made the Outbreak lesser in comparison, a city ruined compared to a nation.
Or just the sheer time that had passed since he was able to investigate, made it ancient history. But his longevity only made the past closer, despite it getting farther away each decade.
All for One decided to plan a visit. Not so easy with the government keeping a discreet eye on Alex Mercer, but this would be well worth the effort.
Plus, he could have a proper test run of one of Doctor Garaki's pet project's. See how it performed in a proper stealthy, discreet mission.
If you're interested in joining the Discord server, please go to the AO3/Spacebattles version for the link.