Chapter 5: Corruption
GOD
These events actually happened in roughly the same time as the events of Town of Winter. If you remember that, there was little or no magic in the 20th century, rather than nearly every person having superhero powers. So you may be wondering, how can this be? Well, it all comes down to parallel universes.
Unlike the Marvel Comics Universe (called the MCU by some), my reality doesn't employ any trendy rules of quantum physics. Those laws were created by people who were trying to explain around the existence of God (people like Hawking) by making up crap about light passing through holes and how somehow light behaves differently because everyone lives in a different universe, or quantum entanglement connecting two objects. Nuh. That's not it.
It's like this. All things from a blade of grass to a grain of sand to something big like... the Death Star (what, you thought I was gonna say the sun?) are created and thus entangled in their creator. But contrary to the model where because things change, reality must be subjective, things like truth and reality are objective. Though this is paradoxical, as there is a subjective aspect of things. In one reality, 2020 is a Trump re-election, while the public is convinced that a doddering old fool won in another reality. In one reality, there is peace and justice in the world, while corruption and evil abounds in another reality.
But not only events change. The existence of magic, the rules of physics, all of those are subject to the reality we live in. You can't just make the rules of your reality, and say "I deny your reality." The truth is the truth. But there's a wrinkle to this. The source of superhero powers is not, as you might imagine, the runes system that allows the power of prayer and creation to spread to the world. This system of faith-based magic is known loosely as theurgy. Rather, it is more similar to the Soulfire power, the psychic ability to create a regionalized reality near yourself. And this isn't even the only two systems of power. In some versions of Earth, pretty princesses use rainbows or song and dance to effect changes, while making contracts with magical beings and summoning them is the rule in still others, or some sort of super-science is all there is in still others. If I were to take these systems apart, each of them would wind up with so many mechanics binding their usage that it would take out all the magic and sense of wonder from them. Magic is a force that requires a sense of wonder and awe, in addition to any understanding needed for use. It can be explained under certain systems like runes, but ultimately it breaks rational systems, otherwise it should be called science. So let's just say, "A magician never reveals his secrets."
Not even the laws of death and life are universal. In some versions of Earth, the dead must undergo a ceremony or they come back as undead. In others, everyone remembers their reincarnation. In still others, when people die, all their magical power is released in a bright blue explosion. I made these many versions of this world in order to have something to keep myself from being bored. The countless ages that I have lived have made finding something to do a necessity. And so, rather than scientific rules making these things, I simply dreamed them up, and reality obeyed.
GEMINI
I got in! I was now at Eiyuu College, a college to train professional heroes. As someone who had yet to awaken their powers, I could not sign up for any Heroism classes, but nonetheless I managed to minor in Hero Studies while majoring in General Studies. I had applied to the same college as my roommates from boarding school, and wondered if I would meet them. After getting my course schedule, student ID, my books, and my keys, I checked out my dorm, wondering if I'd see my friends at all in the four years of college. I opened the door, gasped, and pointed, "It's you!!!" Nerissa shook her head, "Are you serious?!? Emily's even next door." Emily popped her head out, "I'm not sure whether Summer made it, though. I checked the dorm records online by hacking into the college website, and it doesn't seem like she's in a dorm. But that still leaves the apartments." I sighed. In my opinion, paying extra for an apartment when there were dorms as part of the tuition was pretty stupid. Most of the people who did that were party frat types, and few of them even managed to graduate. What was she thinking?!? In any case, we weren't even sure she came... wait, why shouldn't she? She was class representative, she had the highest grades of any of us, and she developed her power while someone like me was still struggling. As I worried what happened to her, my other two friends decided to take my mind off of things, "Sleepover time!"
I changed into pajamas in my room while the other two used the bathroom. Noticing that Nerissa's side of the room was filled already with coastal themes, I decorated my side of the room in pink. I'm quite certain that Emily's room looked like a factory with engines and gizmos of all sorts, given her power of creation of objects. While we ordered pizza, and put on a movie, we talked. Now, contrary to the idea that girls only talk about boys among themselves, and any deviation from this implies lesbianism, we had an aspiring engineer and minoring in religion, a lady going into the army and learning about marine biology, and someone who was born male and wanted to follow after a crossdressing superhero. Of course we had interesting things to talk about, even at a sleepover. It started out serious though.
"So like, I don't think dog should have leashes," Nerissa said. I had known Nerissa a long time, and she could be a little quirky, but she had a good heart and usually a good point to her thinking. But I looked at her funny, so she had to explain, "I'm serious! Look, dogs are fifth class citizens. They can't enter most public buildings without some stupid excuse like that they're therapy dogs. And I suspect the people who made the rules about dogs not entering buildings also made up the idea of therapy dogs, to exempt themselves from the rules. Then you can't let them walk where they want, and if you think they're too noisy or might hurt people or just don't like them, you muzzle them. They're basically slaves!"
"Oh c'mon!" I said, "If you want real slavery, the volunteer and internship system is terribly broken. My aunt worked as a intern for two years, hoping they'd see how good she was. They never paid her and never employed her. She's still called a volunteer even though she works regular 4 hour shifts five days a week."
Emily, not looking particularly argumentative, simply quoted facts and statistics from a webpage on the internet. But by the end of it, I was convinced the two of us were whining about nothing. Not that interns and dogs shouldn't get decent treatment. "Human trafficking is the fastest growing crime, which I estimate will surpass gun smuggling by about 2020 to become second only to drug dealership, and surpassing slavery even before slavery was legal. In fact, what is called illegal immigration today is often a cover for human trafficking, with heavy standards in legal immigrant actually being a deterrent to such crime. In other words, the people who want illegal immigrants aren't doing so because they are not racist, they are protecting this practice. In many cases, children especially become easy targets for pedophiles or groomed in order to later become prostitutes, sometimes even made up to look much older than they are so their clients unwittingly assist in child prostitution. Some other grooming techniques involve convincing male children they are trans before they have a chance to make informed decisions. Labor slavery is also prevalent, with workers paid well below minimum wage and threatened to be deported if they question their treatment. Deportation would probably help them in such cases, but their handlers convince them that their treatment will be akin to arrest, when actually they are the victims. Worse yet, the women and children not used in sex slavery or labor are often used as part of a "family" to allow easy smuggling. And the men? Some of them are drug dealers, terrorists, or foreign military if not also victims of trafficking for sex or labor." She said all of this without emotion, reading from a fact sheet. But as I say, the two of us were astonished that such evil could exist. We turned away from the topic.
But we kept this in mind, as it haunted us. Especially the part about being groomed as trans, but then I shrugged it off. I had two parents that were okay with this, but also encouraged me to make sure what I wanted wasn't something I had been talked into and that my choices always stayed open. As a result, I had determined that a permanent surgery probably wasn't a good option. Then the pizza came, and we stopped talking about that.
We had ordered a medium pizza for each of us, intending the save whatever we didn't have for next night. Although each of us tried the other's pizza when suitable. I chose a supreme with triple order of veggies (I needed plenty of fiber in my diet to stay lean), Nerissa had anchovies, and Emily had a kind of custom mix that she favored. According to her, broccoli and mushrooms had an interesting flavor profile when coupled with the traditional ham and pineapple of a Hawaiian pizza. If Summer were here, she would order a plain pepperoni or cheese pizza, then proceed to buy meat or produce however she felt like topping it. Sometimes she even topped it with peaches or zucchini and put it back in the oven for a short time. Summer was like that, she preferred that people think she was some dumb cheerleader type, but actually she was the smartest of us.
As we scarfed down pizza, we talked about lighter topics. Like Plato's Cave. Whether the Earth is actually flat or round. Whether experiences are really shared or whether maybe I'm imagining my friends talk about these topics, and they're really talking about fashion and boys (you know, Hawking's idea that reality is subjective). Religious conceptions like universal salvation. Whether quantum physics is actually real or made up. Okay, we're a bunch of geeks.
After becoming stuffed with products of cheese, tomato, and bread, we decided to start watching an anime called One Piece. It seemed kinda silly. Little did we know that years later, it would cover the very topic that had disturbed us that night. As I watched, I thought of how much Summer would probably enough this anime. I wondered, what was she doing right now?
SUMMER
Day 1
I began my first day at college much like I had at high school with the other three. I had missed them terribly, but part of me ached for a room with the comfy privacy afforded by expending a slight extra amount of money. Such a thing would be impractical to someone like Emily, who I could distinctly hear saying, "A bed is just a bed. Work until you crash, and then just sleep anywhere." She didn't get that it was more than Egyptian cotton filled with down, it was the experience of private studying and getting a first rate education.
I was majoring in Business, and minoring in Women's Studies. I didn't fully understand the major, thinking it was a means of understanding the history and anthropology of women over the centuries. In retrospect, I should have read the syllabus before applying. Especially since I later found out that this particular college did not allow change of minor without permission from the head of the department. I would find that I was forced to complete this minor or not receive enough credits to graduate.
The first class started like so: I awoke at six, prepared for class, and headed to a class at eleven. I took a shower, combed my hair, put it into a series of small braids, and spun it together in a neat bun. I applied some smart makeup, stepped into a bra and panties, put on leggings, a knee-length black skirt, a white blouse, a black jacket and a black bow that extended from my neck to the top of my blouse. Japanese schools would be proud. I then put on some sensible heels and headed out the door. But there was still an hour to spare, so I spent some time in the library.
The bell rang, and I was on time and well dressed, ready to learn about women's history and accomplishments. But the first class wasn't about any of this. I noticed as I walked in that room that the door was not made of softwood trees or even hardwood, but what appeared to be tempered stainless steel. It probably cored with adamant, a material strong enough for most superheroes. Why the precaution? I looked around and noticed the walls were also similarly constructed, and there appeared to be bars on the windows. I also noticed that nobody else was dressed like I was. I looked around at my classmates and noticed two familiar faces, Karen Mapplewood and a Balsam Dingleberry from high school, the two most outspoken and obnoxious girls I'd ever met. Oh shi-
The teacher and her assistant entered the room and closed the door behind them. And by closed, I don't mean simply swung it shut. The teacher had some kind of power over doors. The handle and the lock outright disappeared. She looked around the room, then her assistant pointed to me, and she immediately said something which puzzled me, "Who here wants to learn about female reproduction?" I raised my hand like the good student that I was, "Uhhhh teacher? I'm a lesbian, and I have two female girlfriends and a girlfriend in the trans spectrum. Lesbians cannot reproduce. Not for lack of trying..." She raised an eyebrow as though this were a surprising answer. "It appears as though this ignorant girl doesn't understand the new process of turning X chromosomes into Y chromosomes." I'd heard of that, along with in vitro fertilization, but it sounded too much like mad science. She glared at me as if what I said was super offensive, "You know what we do to thought criminals? Get in the corner, like the child you are." I protested, "I'm a grown woman! You do this to me!" Her assistant spoke up, "You're a child. Shut up, and get in the corner, like we told you to." I suddenly felt forced to obey by her words. One minute, I was was arguing, and the next I was standing in the corner. I could stand or sit, but I found I couldn't speak or move from the place. Karen and Balsam, joined by a fat boy called Terrance Globulus and two kids who gender I couldn't determine, called out at me, "Thought criminal! Thought criminal! Thought criminal!" Meanwhile, the 'teacher' spoke in a condescending manner about how everyone knew that not only could you turn X chromosomes into Y chromosomes, but boys who turned into girls after a sex change were fertile enough to get pregnant and deliver babies. This was news to me. Anyway, after enough jeering and insults, I finally sat on the floor, whimpered and cried. This would happen every day for the first year of school. Needless to say, by the second year I was a different person.
Day 2
I actually read the syllabus for the minor. The courses needed for this minor included: Women and Gender (the only class I'd take the first year), Power to the People: Black Power, Radical Feminism, and Gay Liberation (Sophomore), Gender and Sexuality in Korean Pop Culture (Sophomore), Dangerous Words: Feminist Debates on Speech, Harm, and Representation (Sophomore), Black Feminist Theory (Junior), Psychology of the Gendered Body (Junior), A Voice of One's Own (Junior), Bodies of Transformation (Senior), Gender and Technology, Gender as Technology (Senior), and Psychology of the Gendered Body (Senior). I didn't have a good feeling about this. Gemini had arrived at her gender identity rather naturally, by doing what she wanted to do. But it seemed like the end goal of this minor was to turn me not only into a rabid person talking about the patriarchy and actively wanting to be a man. In what way was this about women's empowerment?!? For fuck's sake, no man has ever treated me like in yesterday's class. It was six o'clock again, but this time, I threw on shorts and a tee shirt, and hustled to the registrar's office to tell them I wanted to change my minor. A great deal of lines and bureaucracy passed, and it was 10:30 AM. The registrar tried to tell me to hurry to class, but I wouldn't budge after waiting in line, and filling out multiple forms. She told me, "Sorry, we can't change your minor without permission from the head of Women's Studies." I asked her, "Who do I see?" She pointed to the very same sadist from yesterday whose class I happened to be in. I knew her answer was no, before she even told me, "Get to class." I was doomed.
The second class was as bad as the first. I was stuck in the corner again for thoughcrimes, and yet again treated like a child. This time, it was because I blurted out that my friend was gender fluid and still maintained a male sexual identity, even though legally she was female. Didn't I know that she was actually born a woman? As though humiliation could somehow change basic reality, that whether you surgically changed, the way you are born is not changed. Yet I worried that after enough of this brainwashing passed, I'd be unable to even understand basic match problems. I hurried to a library and read a book known as Resisting Brainwashing: Hero Edition. I was carefull not to check it out so my name wouldn't be on record, as I didn't trust the school administration anymore. They were supposed to be helping me become a hero, but clearly wrongdoers had infiltrated. The book was about how heroes fought off wrongdoers able to mess with their minds. While the head teacher was a lockmaster, the teacher's assistant was known as having powerful mental abilities.
First imagine a wall, the book said. This was mostly for straight up defense. Powerful heroes used this and usually prevailed. But I knew this wouldn't endure and I needed a backup plan.
There were more advanced techniques that allowed the mind to become like water, but they appeared to be suited for people who had a lot of time to practice and working with someone who didn't pose an actual thread, allowing leisurely practice. Not actively being attacked every school day for the next four years. And so I skipped ahead, looking for an answer.
I finally found one, but it was clearly a last resort. Assume the possibility that you might lose. Build a persona that can take the attack instead of you. Name that persona, so that when you lose control of who you are, that persona will take the effect, not yourself. While you sleep, practice lucid dreaming, storing a copy of your core self deep within your subconscious. It will appear to all who mind control you that you are swayed, and mind control powers, being a different power subset than dream powers will be unable to attack this portion of your mind. However, this only makes you easier to deprogram. You yourself will not remember this part of yourself after the brainwashing has concluded. Well, it was better than nothing. At least I would have my core self intact. Even though I wouldn't be able to remember it. And I wouldn't be able to tell my friends about it... I sighed. I wish I had gotten in touch with my friends before this mess. I thought of reaching out for them now, but realized they would be in danger too. Only a pro hero could deal with the likes of Gatekeeper to Knowledge and Assistant Teacher. Eventually, someone did put a stop to them, but it took a lot of work. Similar teams were found around the country.
I chose the name Bravery Journey as my protective persona. It sounded enough like a radical feminist name that this wouldn't raise any red flags, but more importantly this name was a key to remembering who I was. Journey, because it was history that made me who I am. Bravery, to remind myself that I needed to stay brave and hopeful for the day that my friends would help me...
GOD
The author wasn't kidding. I had designed a clear distinction between the body and the spirit, the world of objects and the World of Dreams as some called it. Powers were limited in the physical world yet nearly absolute in the World of Dreams, with one exception. You could make any object or phenomenon in dreams, some people could kill the physical by attacking the spirit in dreams, and some could even give or take physical objects through dreams. But you couldn't change who someone was through their dreams, and no power but mine was able to alter the subconscious.
SUMMER (BRAVERY)
Day 12
I had managed it after ten days. I had created my persona, and partitioned my real self in my dreams. Now whenever I dreamed, my dreams would tell who I really was, but that person would be a background character walking past. Only when I knew who I was would I understand the significance of this. As an added precaution, I used a memory erasure ability found in the book to flush all memories of this procedure. This way, if she read my mind, even I would not know that I had done this. For now, I would pretend to be Summer gradually giving way to a persona named Bravery.
SUMMER
Day 54
It's been a few weeks. I feel like each day it's harder and harder for me to think. I remember reading some book about making a wall against whatever's causing these headaches. But each time it seems harder.
BRAVERY
Year 2
It's my second year. The first thing I did was tell the people at the office that business courses are very stupid and I dunno what I was thinking. They looked at my major, and asked me what I want, and I said Creative Writing. I want to write poems about the patriarchy.
The second thing I did was give myself a buzzcut, dyed my hair rainbow colored (it was brown before so I had to bleach it), and gave myself a nose ring. I dunno why, but today I decided my new name was Bravery Journey. The other girls in my class all shouted, "You go, girl!" That's the kind of superhero that was aspirational to me. My name is Bravery Journey, and my superhero name is You Go Girl. I figured out that my powers are a fist that kinda glows and can smash through walls. With that, I should be able to tear down all walls that other people set up.
I feel like I had different powers a year ago. But I can't really remember.
Year 4
Teacher says my poetry is good now. Check it out.
The patriarchy expect me
to look pretty
but
I'll smash them...
Feminist Smash!
All those gay
bi and
trans people
being oppressed,
I'll smash the people who smush them.
EMILY
Huh? No, my classes were normal. Same for Nerissa and Gemini. I learned how to manufacture wool, cotton, toilet paper, and even weapons and engines. I also took theology which meant I got to study existential philosophy as well as scripture for multiple religions. For senior year, they showed me how to singlehandedly build a jumbo jet.
Nerissa learned to identify marine life and military strategy, and her curriculum was extremely extensive. She could quote The Art of War and tell the difference between a Pimephales Promelas and a Pimephales Notatus.
Gemini just took general studies, but minored in Sidekick Studies. Sidekick Studies was for heroes who didn't have a power. They showed you how to perform mundane rescues, use tools like grappling hooks and smoke bombs, and assist real heroes. But after a few classes, she decided that this was too easy. So she changed her minor to Hero Studies. It didn't require her to have special abilities, but it was much harder without them. Not just passing though. Surviving. She had to deal with things like hostile attacks from other hero candidates posing as wrongdoers, along with disarming landmines and stopping falling planes. I honestly don't know how she got through.
SAMSARA
I went home after finishing off another few people. Some of these were just kids! I know, I know, I was killing people in order to reincarnate them, but when I started, all of the trans people seemed to be adults in their twenties and thirties. Now people as young as age four were convinced they were transgender. I was getting an unsettling feeling about all of this. Like maybe society was being changed by some sinister force, and these kids were being talked into something they didn't understand. Now, I wasn't exactly a hero, but even I had a problem with something like that. More disturbing was the fact that while few cultures really condoned outright murder (aside from cannibalistic tribes), even fifteen or twenty years ago, were my full methods known, I would have been seen at worst as a vigilante, not a nemesis. True, I had to kill people to reincarnate them, but the heroes of this culture were becoming increasingly hypocritical. I was condemned as a nemesis, while sick pedophile freaks who sniffed children's hair and probably did worse behind closed doors were allowed to become senators. Increasingly, it wasn't just Women's Studies that was messing with people's minds. In certain schools, even math and history were becoming corrupt. I had heard of other troubling things. How an attempted green food revolution had failed, and now dubious additives were added even to meat and vegetables that were supposed to be organic or natural. Things like trans fats, fake sugars, or flavorings. Some of these had very bad effects on the health of humans, like trans fats clogging the system and increasing the odds of diabetes, or aspartame converting into formic acid in the body, causing or worsening phenylketonuria (PKU) or Parkinson's like Michael J Fox had. Only the PKU angle was mentioned, and no mention was given that it could actually cause the stuff. Or how even the drinking water couldn't be trusted, as a man named Robert Bilott had found out. When investigating legal claims of a small farmer, he had found that PFOA, a product used to make nonstick pans and even toilet paper in some cases, made his cattle all die, and many children in the area grew up deformed. To say nothing of vague reports of people messing with children in one way or another. People were taught in school in some places that they were trans, as I was finding out. The systematic poisoning of mind and body of human beings, this was just awful.
I wasn't surprised though. I had heard of a creepy airport in Denver where the runways were vaguely swastika-shaped, the was a creepy evil sculpted horse that had actually killed its sculptor, there were strange murals that depicted a sort of apocalypse, and some time capsule not to be opened until later. It seemed to have extra schematics and possibly be some kind of bunker. Then there were the Georgia Guidestones which talked about limiting the world's population and getting rid of individual governments. These sick fucks wanted to slaughter everyone and start over with just them in control of everything. My prayer was that this monstrous structure would crumble into dust and not be rebuilt. And the same for that airport.
I sighed. Well, there were many things that as a vigilante, I had no power over, but I hoped those who knew about this could do something about them. I removed my clothing to change into something better. I slid off my robe, revealing bound breasts. Yes, my fight as a vigilante was a personal one. I had almost been talked into having a sex change myself. Instead, I decided to cut my hair short, bind my breasts, and wear a costume that hid my true figure. And I decided to help any who I had discovered on a hacked list of sex changes to transform into real women. I was genderfluid, like that kid Female Cosplay Man mentioned before his death. Although lately, it seemed like that kid had mostly settled on a female appearance. I had no such limitation. I put on a wig and lingerie, and slipped into a dress. I was off duty. I wanted to go to dinner and movies. Maybe even pick up a guy for the night. My work is lonely, after all.
