I managed to get a hold of her on Sunday. The actual last day of the week for those of us (ahem) with real jobs.

  Now I know a lot of dudes probably fantasize about commanding their ex girlfriends to speak with them, but I promise that I did this extremely reluctantly.

  It had been a rough non-weekend.

  We still hadn’t found Dr. Genesis. Silhouette, Domnhall Quinn, Decalock, and Weird Woman had all been looking across the planet, but these things took time.

  The problem was that he had apparently made three more of them. Our analysts estimated they must have cost $70 million apiece to grow, not even accounting for all the failed specimens before the successes took route. We had no idea where he could be getting this kind of funding.

  Three more Haldane Blobs.

  And he could be making more.

  We’d had to get less picky and less precious with engagement protocols at this point.

  In Seattle, the blob had utterly wrecked the coastline before Brother Wave, Captain Stratosphere, and Thunderbird IV had pushed it into the ocean where Sunhead vaporized it. It had captured at least seven lineage-factored heroes’ DNA before it was destroyed, though. And it might take months to clean up the environmental damage from their disposal method. Very sloppy work.

  In Berlin, after Herr Stark and Witch House had cordoned off and evacuated a sizable chunk of the city and that ludicrously powerful Italian superheroine Law of Attraction pulled every still-living organism out of the blob’s body, Kid Klaus had dropped a pillar of frost from the troposphere that froze the Haldane Blob and 32 square miles of Berlin before leaping down and shattering it to pieces with his axe.

  In Bogota, we… didn’t really know what happened there. Working theory was that maybe ??La Sonámbula had some kind of traumatic break and her powers briefly subsumed all of Colombia into psychic gloom. Our capes we sent were accounted for, at least. But it looked like this one had been completed.

  And we hadn’t seen a sign of Dr. Genesis’ activity since.

  And with a globe-spanning red alert unfolding, our portal princess had been spread pretty thin.

  Point being, obviously my request was not at the top of the priority list.

  She didn’t have to come if she didn’t want to.

  But I got a late Sunday evening.

  “Good evening, Mr. Chairman. You wanted to see me?”

  No, I really didn’t. This was worse. I had to.

  “Evening, Miss Liberty. Thank you for your time.”

  God. It felt like we were playing Call of Cthulhu and pretending to be fancy professors or something.

  “Look,” I started, “I don’t want to keep getting jump-scared by the political ripples of my own decisions like I’m some kind of werewolf that turns into Harry Reid on a full moon and wakes up without remembering what he just did. Candidly, off the record, we both know that I shouldn’t be here. We both very much wish that I wasn’t.

  But Dirk Domino put me here, so that’s what we’re going to have to deal with for now. I know that my… beliefs can be at odds with your family’s, and that’s not likely to change, but I at least know that you’re smart and you’re sane and you have a better grasp of what’s going on in this tower than probably anyone here.

  So, like. Help. Please.

  Help me be a little bit less stupid about this. For Utopia.”

  Her head tilted a little and an eyebrow raised.

  “Of course. That’s my job. Could you be more specific?”

  Well, it looked like the tone shift wasn’t going both ways. That was fine. That was to be expected.

  “Thank you. Thank you. So first of all. What’s happening with the Lunars? How bad is it, and what is exactly going down because of my budget sign-off on Wednesday? I know they’re crazy, and they kidnapped a bunch of scientists in the ‘90s, and their prophet Xulxuxian has invited me to “dine and dream” with him in his pocket dimension next week, and they think we’re supposed to build a country on the moon. But I’m not connecting the dots.”

  She nodded.

  “Let’s start from the beginning. Would you walk me through what happened at this initial meeting?”

  I explained my meeting with Audrey Ki-Moon to her. Omitting, of course, some of the parts that made me look either too unserious or too sexy.

  The unconventional request.

  The disarming sincerity and hope.

  Genuinely solid science and research behind it.

  Her appearance and heritage.

  Something in her looked genuinely disturbed at that bit, and I could see gears starting to turn in her head.

  She knew what that part meant. That she was half Quori. That she looked like him. She danced around it, didn’t say it out loud. It was one of the kindest things anyone had ever done for me.

  I didn’t know what to take away from us at all. Had they stolen the reactor from the Science Division and conducted some rogue operation on our moon base? Were they simply celebrating that progress on the moon base was happening at all? Was this entire thing a ruse?

  “Well,” she said, after I had finished, “that was very clever of them. This was almost certainly set up from the beginning. And it is truly alarming how much the Children of Lumagoria already seem to know about you in such a short amount of time. We had overlooked this inevitable aspect of seats of high power because your father was so impenetrable, but it looks like your persona has become an informational commodity akin to nuclear launch codes. Your preferences, your tastes, your loyalties, your grievances, your… personal buttons are likely being discussed openly in certain corners of our world now. Policies are being formed around them.”

  “Oh.”

  That was a terrifying thought.

  “This isn’t something to panic about just yet. It’s something we can control for. Let’s go through this. One by one.”

  “Okay. Yeah.”

  Honestly I was kind of sad. She seemed like a nice girl. I thought I was helping her out. We even had great personal chemistry. We could have been friends.

  I should have known better.

  “So let’s first assess the setup and what we know. Even the nature of the message itself was probably tailored deliberately to appeal to your irreverent sense of humor. They anticipated that you would think it was funny to deliberately grant an audience to the most unprofessional and unprepared people in the company, because that is how you view your own position here. And it laid the groundwork for an interaction or you would be more off guard because you believed that you had total control in the conversation and that the meeting itself would even be a surprise to its requester.”

  “Fuck. Yeah. That makes sense.”

  I felt so fucking stupid in that moment. They really got me. They got me almost as good as Dad did. Outplayed and outsmarted.

  Why had people been so good at gaming my unique and enigmatic personality lately? Was I basic? Was I an archetype?

  Lydia continued.

  “This framing device also allowed them to obfuscate the actual credentials and employee identification of the requester without triggering any suspicions. Then came their agent. A charming young woman—”

  Oh please let’s not get into this. Oh, I’d rather talk about this with my dead dad right now.

  “— who seemed earnest, overlooked, pushed back by the bureaucracy of a system that you at the very least publicly roll your eyes at, fueled by childhood nostalgia and technological optimism, a creative and unconventional thinker, and possessed other innate qualities that would lend themselves to strong personal sympathy from you.”

  “Shit. You can say it. Thank you, but… you can say it. It’s fine.”

  I hated this fucking meeting already. And we weren’t even a third of the way through it. I deserved a truly delectable treat of some kind for being willing to do this. I was being such a fucking big boy.

  She didn’t respond. Just gave a small nod.

  “She told me she couldn’t read minds at least, by the way.”

  Wait.

  “I, um, realize right now how stupid that must have sounded.”

  She closed her eyes and took a breath.

  “If they have more full-blooded Quori on their side, which isn’t guaranteed but it is a safe assumption, then we can assume they have telepaths. Real telepaths. Beyond the high likelihood that their psychic extraterrestrial prophet is a telepath as well. Your father was prepared for this, though. Have you been taking Czeneboline still?”

  Ah fuck.

  Of course I wasn’t taking the anti-telepathy brainwave reinforcer pills anymore.

  “Not a miligram in almost ten years.”

  I could almost see her burying her head in her hands, but she kept her restraint.

  “Get back on it this instant. You should have done that as soon as you got this position.”

  “Yeah. Yeah, of course. It was stupid of me to forget that, I know.”

  “In fact, have the medical team give you an IV drip of it over the next three days. We need as much of it in your system as fast as we can get.”

  “Oh God, that sounds awful.”

  “Please. You’re going to have to deal with it. You can take some Ludephrem to balance the nausea.”

  “I know how to balance pharmaceuticals, Ms. Liberty.”

  A pause.

  “Right.”

  “So what do we think they are trying to do here, with the reactor?”

  “It’s not clear. At the very least it’s a massive symbolic victory for them. And if the reactor is currently in Lunar hands, which it likely is, it means they will have a lot more capacity to be self-sufficient in their expansive mission.

  Utopia has had a monopoly on moon colonization for decades now. It’s always been the assumption among their movement that any real progress towards building their promised land of Lumagoria would have to be done through the use of Utopia resources.

  The author's narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

  The previous Chairman halted expansion of Diana XIII because at a certain point it became clear that our lunar exploration team was deeply compromised by their cultists, a borderline captured agency, and until we could root that ideological stranglehold out, a low priority objective that never was complete completed, any resources sent to the moon would likely be misused for their ends.”

  “But as soon as I sent them that reactor, which they were able to reactivate much easier and faster than they let on, likely because this was far better planned and coorindated than the scrappy optimistic dream of a spirited young woman that I was led to perceive, their dependence on Utopia resources to carry on with their moon bullshit has significantly decreased.”

  “Yes, that’s a safe assumption. They turned the lights back on over the span of a single day. They have been ready.”

  “Hm.”

  “What is it?”

  “I’m going to be honest. I’m not following all of this. I don’t remember much detail beyond what we’ve discussed. Can you just remind me of what their whole deal is? Like give me the abstract?”

  “Sure. It’s not something we have really had to know in detail for a long time now.”

  “But I’m sure you know about it. In detail.”

  “I don’t see much point in forgetting things.”

  Why did hearing that feel like being kicked in the balls?

  Yeah. Yeah, we did not have that in common.

  Then Lydia Liberty launched into explanation mode.

  “Xulxuxian, a likely extraterrestrial organism of indeterminate origin, first appeared in London in the 1960s. He claimed that he was a descendent of the human race, but for millions of years down the evolutionary line, having traveled back from the future to ensure that our grand cosmic destiny came to pass.

  He began to wow superhuman society with his prophecies, most prominently that Earth’s superhumans must all congregate on an artificial city-state built on the moon called Lumagoria, which would time be the launching point of ‘a new age of galactic excellence’.

  At least 2% of the Cause believes in Xulxuxian’s prophecies to some degree. Their followers range from casual believers to unbridled zealots who will stop at nothing to see Xulxuxian’s prophecies come to fruition. Some believe that the tides of fate will sort this out regardless of resistance, while others are aware that a significant degree of mass hypnosis, erosion of free will, and usurpation of existing power structures would be necessary in order for this dream to come to pass.”

  “That’s fucking crazy.”

  “In our world, some people think there’s no such thing.”

  “I kind of get that. Thanks for the rundown.”

  “Of course.”

  “So I’m also wondering what — ”

  I swear my mouth moved before my brain did here. Or maybe my heart or my soul.

  It was a reflex.

  God damn it.

  Tap tap tap.

  She was doing it. Under the desk. With her feet. Almost childishly.

  Oh God. Of course, with the strain of the last few days she —

  “Lydia, have you eaten anything today?” a ghost’s voice said through me.

  The room froze.

  I swallowed a gulp.

  I didn’t regret it?

  For a brief moment, she’d look like she’s been slapped. Like a dog hearing thunder for the first time.

  “That’s none of your concern,” she said weakly.

  Okay. My bad.

  I pivoted back to moon cult questions. We could talk about the moon cult.

  Under the desk, I filed an order to the maids from my phone.

  We just needed to keep talking for six or seven more minutes. I could handle that.

  Our French maid-adorned Floor Gal knocked on the conference room door and entered with its cargo as I pretended to be surprised.

  Compressed watermelon, cucumber and feta salad, with shaved red onions, heirloom tomatoes, dill, mint, fig-infused balsamic vinaigrette, and lemon seeds.

  Just how she liked it.

  Just one of the many things I’d failed to forget.

  Maybe I’d be punished for this. Maybe I’d deserve it.

  “I have to get going. Thank you for your time. And that must’ve been ordered to the wrong room. Don’t worry about it. I’m sure they’ll throw it away after we leave. Good night, Ms. Liberty.”

  What just happened?

  What kind of sick puppet show was this?

  As soon as I got back to the office, I nearly smashed the bathroom mirror when I saw my stupid face reflected in it.

  Why did you let her speak to you like that?

  Why did you speak to her like that?

  Do you think she’s your fucking friend?

  Are you just horny? Are you being seduced again?

  Go get ridden by one of your thousands of adoring moon-cult fans.

  They are less dangerous. Considerably less dangerous.

  But I was a fucking fraud. I was so weak.

  I got her food? Like I was her wife?

  I tried so desperately to find my anger. Where was it? Like I was blackout drunk, in bed with an exhausted woman who had work in the morning, furiously beating my dick trying to get it up knowing it wasn't gonna work. Was the cocaine putting me in too good a mood? Was that it?

  No this wasn’t a good mood. It was just the wrong kind of bad mood. I needed to be angry at her. I needed the anger as armor. I couldn't defend myself against her looking at me like that otherwise. Why wasn't I angry at her? Where did it go? This was all her fault wasn't it? Her and those hideous fucking gods of calamity we call a family?

  Percy. These people are your enemies. We hate them. They are everything that is wrong with the world. Their bloodline will doom the human race.

  Percy they ruined your life.

  Percy this was.

  All.

  Their.

  Fault.

  Remember remember remember.

  I didn’t know the color black could look like that.

  None of us did.

  Were we going to have to - to fight? Against him?

  No, fuck. Get me out of here.

  Could I tell them not to hurt him? “Him”. Yeah right, was he even —

  Skurch. Zilp.

  “Percy? Percy? Percy.”

  Did he know I was sorry?

  Stop. Stop. Don’t remember his face.

  You’ve ne-ver seen one that’s all the way open.

  Dad? Anyone?

  What’s your favorite kind of face to make, little little little boy?

  This is mine.

  Ah. Aaah. Ah. No no no no no no.

  We tried not to warn you. We were told you loved surprises. Sur-pris-ing sur-pri-ses so sweet you could kiss them dead.

  Oh my God.

  Remembering was a mistake. I was stupid. This whole thing was insane.

  I can’t do this. I’m leaving. They can’t stop me from leaving, right?

  I threw up in the bathroom. It cleaned itself hilariously quickly. Like we were in Star Trek or something.

  I had to leave. I couldn’t leave.

  Percy don’t be a fucking pussy.

  This was the one thing. In my life. I couldn’t run away from. Dad made sure of that. The trap was just too well-crafted.

  I was a rat nailed to a cross of leaking batteries with a spike through its head and they didn’t even need cheese to get me there. The cheese was-

  Sophie’s inheritance.

  Sophie’s inheritance.

  Sophie’s inheritance.

  Sophie’s inheritance.

  Sophie’s inheritance.

  Sophie’s inheritance.

  Sophie’s inheritance.

  Sophie’s inheritance.

  She would not suffer for my cowardice. Not for one second.

  Lock in.

  All I had to do was stay in an office building for, what, six hours? Was that how long a work day was? That was like one Valium. Yeah this would be fine. It’s fine.

  That’s what the drugs are for, Percy. Trust your old friends.

  Plus it would probably be much shorter after this week. The first week probably had all the important meetings. Like the beginning of a semester of school.

  I wished I went to college sometimes. It looked like fun in the movies. No one really wanted to talk about books with me.

  Okay. That was a nicer thought.

  I had just taken a lot of Xanax to tide me over before the Valium kicked in. I’d do another line before the next meeting -- Sebi would remind me -- so I could stay alert.

  Did I have a next meeting? It was pretty late. It’s always pretty late.

  I didn’t really care about that stuff from before anymore. Just freaking out for no reason. Mmm. Yeah I felt so light. I was just going to listen to some shoegaze with a cold towel against my forehead and slip into a half-waking dream.

  Could I call Lila in to hang out with me?

  No. That was pathetic. She’d do it but then never respect me again.

  That wasn’t true. She was a good person. And everyone liked hanging out with me. I’m the man.

  But we were at work. Yeah.

  Hahahahahahahaha.

  Daddy! Daddy! I’m going off to business!

  I woke up eventually.

  It felt like my teeth were stabbing into my mouth one by one and they each needed to be removed.

  It felt like the other half of my head was somewhere on the floor.

  It felt like I had been sucking off the devil and he didn’t even finish.

  It felt — rouagh.

  Urg. Urg.

  Guh.

  It, it — stop it. Everything stop.

  Stop the entire world.

  Back to sleep. Back to sleep now.

  No.

  No, I should go home.

  This was no place to sleep.

  No place to do anything at all.

  I flew home.

  Whooshing through the sky on that wonderful piece of technology.

  Trying not to just let go.

  Ironheart wasn’t as bright as you usually were supposed to usually expect it to be.

  That was so fine by me.

  A-okay.

  Ay. Ay. Ay.

  Ironheart wasn’t as bright as it usually seemed to be.

  Wait, I think I said that already?

  Now hold on.

  I wasn’t just going dizzy.

  Things were dim.

  Things were off.

  Off, but also off.

  Was my watch not working?

  Why wasn’t my watch working?

  I could still enter the house through biometric scans, but, but hmm.

  What?

  Stillness.

  Dark and still.

  The lights were just off. They were never off.

  And the robots? They were off too.

  Like mannequins. Just hanging there. Empty eyed.

  Whiiiir. Whiiiir.

  What the fuck is going on? Is the house glitching out?

  Did something happen?

  Am I still in the office having a bad dream?

  A single light turned on in the living room, illuminating the Danish couch like a stage.

  Humm. Humm.

  And I heard a smooth, faintly synthetic, subtly musical baritone say:

  “Hello, brother.”