dualisnet | TEXT: Day after the Festivities

There is a small bit of David that wonders, for a half a minute, of the strangely worded invitation, is in fact some sort of trap. Even has reasons for it. First, what cop immediately works to undermine or potentially impede an official police investigation? Second, what genius actually openly posts about it given the people responsible are clearly capable of hacking and this network is by no means secure.m? And third, well, who was to say that new arrivals had any information at all?

Still, David isn’t the sort to let this stuff slide, and with the invitation there he tromps up the stairs toward the sixth floor kitchen. And he’s lucky for the jazz, unable to keep a pleased smile from his lips. If nothing else, the man has taste in music.

“You’re Officer Anderson?”

He really, truly, deeply wishes there had been a quicker way than a network post to talk to people. But he is a cop, and as a cop he can say, 'Hey, meet me in relative private', and as a cop if he gets yelled at for it, it's him being yelled at for it and not some civilian taking flack for their initiative.

So he'll accept that it's stupid, he knows that it's stupid, but it's what he's got.

The music is just loud enough to sort of garble speech if you're far enough way, though at a fine volume if you're close up. But even if it's not a trap, David is the first one to take the proverbial bait. Hank looks up from the book he's reading and shoves it away.

"Yeah, that'd be me. Think you might be able to help me out?"

“Well that depends, doesn’t it?” David asks as he settles down in a chair of his own. This next part sure is the tricky one. “How likely are you to attempt someone who has been here for only half a day longer than this party has been going on just because his life experience means he knows a lot about bombs, hacking, and public attacks against minority populations?”

Because back home David is more or less on the books, some books, as a terrorist. Mostly through choosing not to live in a country that was happy to not defense mutant kind.

"Not likely." Hank says bluntly. "No confirmations, but this must have taken weeks to months of prep work from a group of well-organized people. So I'm pretty sure you're in the clear."

But someone with those kind of skills would come in handy.

"Which side of those experiences have you been on?"

There are some post-its crammed into his novel. It's not just a book he's reading, but one that he's keeping notes in.

“You want to know if I’m a terrorist,” David asks with a smirk. At least the man is logical enough to come to that conclusion. Some hope for the police here then. The question is how much he can really say.

“Part of the targeted minority group. Though as part of my skill set I can say that I know a lot about bomb construction. And that group? They wanted minimal civilian damage. They wanted to make a statement and used the mayor to do it. So far as I can tell they didn’t seem to do any of the things one does to maximize civilian damage. If they had it would have been a lot harder for me to stop the few instances of bleeding caused directly by the shrapnel. They would have laced it with something like rat poison, a chemical of which discourages clotting. And if it was a full infrastructure attack for a larger message, there would have been a follow up bomb, along either likely major civilian egress points, or along first responder entry points.”

Maybe David had been thinking about this a lot. Too much. But he has fought against invasions, anti-mutant movements, and all of the mess that happened in San Francisco before Utopia was established. These were things he had learned to survive. And tactical things Scott Summers would have pointed out.

"That's the problem, it was made for max damage, and for someone doing that they either were inexperienced and did a shitty job, or they knew the state would be watching all their purchases. It was homemade. I got some confirmation on that. I was at the scene and caught some details from the forensic team. I'm still trying to scrounge up more details about it, but when it went off? If they limited it, it was because the bomber had to be in the crowd. The receiver had to be somewhere close to set it off. Probably just out of shrapnel range."

He sighs, again with that heavy weight of 'what the fuck is wrong with people' that occasionally fills his head.

"So it's not the guy that set off the broadcast. It had to be a coordinated effort. Timed. and I'd wager communicated since they waited exactly for the parade to start."

He spreads his hands.

"I know about minority groups getting hassled. My last case was like that. They usually get painted as terrorists too, even if they're just activists." But it did make him notice something else.

"If I could get you that information, think you could tell me more about the bomb so I could look into more places where they would have gotten supplies? Right now I got a list of shots in the dark. Janitorial access. That kind of stuff."

Ah to be deputized. David almost wants to laugh. Almost. He manages to hold it back. Still, it would be a lie to say he hadn’t intended to look into all of this. Problem was resources. Even r could make the computers in their dorms do only so much. He needed a better rig. A far better one. But he would make do. He always did.

“Good news. If that was maximum intended damage, your bomber likely isn’t very experienced, especially if you’re running a janitor angle. Probably doesn’t have a chemistry background, because they could do a lot just with commonly ordered cleaning supplies. But yes, if I had information I could probably get you something to go on. Provided you have my back when the cops invariably come around wanting to know why I am snooping.”

What? It seems fair. Investigating explosives can look a lot like making them. He knows that very well. However there is a far greater concern.

“Your hacker is the problem, though. I haven’t been here long but I have poked at the systems here, just a little. I’ve seen and cracked extremely well protected systems in the past,” and in his future as well, not that he knows that yet, timelines what are you going to do? “If my time with the X-Men taught me anything, it is that someone that could manage that sort of thing, they are very good, or they are a technopath. The latter is worlds harder to catch.”

"Yeah, I've been ready to accept flack for this one. But there aren't a lotta people willing to sign their name to tips, and in this case I'm under the impression this particular law enforcement won't let people get away with that. I will, if it leads to something valuable. The most important part of a case is culprits, not associates."

Because associates can be there for all sorts of reasons. A loved one, possibly unable to leave. Someone bullied into their position.

Wait, did he say 'X-Men'?

Fuck, you know what? That's a question for later. He'll just stash that way. Off to the side, over here. He doesn't need that. "My partner could control other machines through a touch. He was a very specific model of android. And the androids I saw take over a broadcasting building had a very similar message. And 'Wake up' was something specifically used to introduce sentience to the other androids. But they were definitely more activist than terrorist. They didn't hurt anybody. They just spoke out and hijacked communications to do so.

"I noticed that there aren't a lot of many outspoken people on the network. I did a search and by 'not a lot' I mean 'none'. It's like it was scoured clean. Not even political comedians or questionable music. But to me, that says there has to be live performances somewhere. And if there are live performances, then there would be audience members that could help out."

At least that's another route he wants to tak.

"Think there might be a version of the dark net to look around on?"

For a moment he almost wants to compliment Hank on his mindfulness of the true issue being the hacker, the understanding of the threat. Which of course is ageist of him, which is stupid, and he wants to correct it as soon as he can. But then the man goes on about the androids and David's left to raise an interested eyebrow. A time period when there are androids that aren't made by Dr. Doom or Ultron? Well, he can definitely understand a far more technologically thoughtful officer on that matter.

So he stays silent for a moment, taking this all in. Yes, he had also noted that there was a lack of discontent online, especially for a city where people were here more or less against their will.

"We're run by an AI, Officer Anderson. There is every likelihood that it implies subprograms along the lines of web crawlers. The point being, of course, to wipe signs of discontent. The populous can be less likely to foment discontent if they feel they are the only one feeling that way. Or, of course, if they are left in fear of just what our keeper is capable of. Which only underscores how dangerous this hacker is. Perhaps someone like your former partner, perhaps just a mutant who came here with that ability. I've known some. Perhaps someone from a sufficiently technologically advanced race to manage it just from skill."

Either way, it's not a happy picture. David raises a hand to his chin and strokes it thoughtfully. Some strange corner of his brain says that this would be a great time for some facial hair, and he dismisses it.

"I wish Tommy was here, he'd be useful for interviewing people who might have been to those sorts of performances. But they're likely to be quiet about it if these people know this sort of suppression is going on. As for the dark net..."

He spreads his hands as if to say he can't just make that appear.

"That would require a lot of time to poke into, unless one already knew how to get there. Different worlds would likely have different means of accessing them. I wouldn't know the programs, and even if I did, they aren't typically searchable. Which means finding what you want is even harder."

Which isn't to say that David wouldn't try and see what he could find, when he has the time. First, he needs a job to secure some money.

"Well, we got a whole year to do it." Until, theoretically, they're allowed to leave. Though with the size of the city it seems like a lot of people opt to stay. He wonders if any stipulations hold them back. Or if breeding into the city's population somehow is the cure; just replace the people prone to infection constantly with new people.

But that's also it's own mystery. He'll worry about that one later. Who knows what the hell they're talking about until he finds at least one of them.

"The reason I wonder is that it seemed like the broadcast was focused to televisions and not phones or net. Those might have been too rough to hack. But they could be communicating some other way." At least from what he's gathered, that's the extent of the 'wake up' chant that went out.

"I have... at least it's a start, you know? I just gotta dig through this pile of fuckin' shit and mine up some gold. It's gotta be in there. I'd still turn in anyone responsible to the police because what they did was shitty. It wasn't in self-defense. It was just attention mongering. But I want to know what they were talking about."

“It is. Quite a hefty one you’ve set out for yourself. And now it’s my turn to ask questions. Seems fair, right?”

Because just working with this man isn’t nearly enough. He crosses his arms and legs and considers Hank. Very, very carefully.

“First, where did you get this jazz? I miss it.”

He perks up like a dog given a vague note of approval, just because he's not exactly a personable guy, and being what he is he's not one to spark much positive interest. The moment he says he's a cop he's a faceless enemy entity.

He sort of respects that. He's also an ass about it. But he knows that the attitude isn't unfounded.

"Found it in a secondhand shop. I guess some of the people who came here sell some of their old possessions eventually. Found some sorta music player. It was easy enough to figure out." Though nothing his universe had seen.

"No Billie Holliday or Duke Ellington though. Not yet, anyway. I'll keep my eyes open."

“One lives with what they can get. And since I’ve missed the Chicago Jazz Festival the last who knows how many years now, I’m missing it more than ever.”

More than he can even explain. Sure, this isn’t Chicago-style, but it is right enough to work for him.

“Can I see what you’re playing from? Would let me know if I could digitize it.”

"Sure." He picks it up and turns the clunky thing off. Luckily, as with many music players, it was self explanatory. There is some rhythm and blues on it as well. Which is fine. Hank favors Jazz but he'll take it as well. He's also one of those pricks that knows the difference. The type that, in his youth, tried to make his own beer and can argue the value of numetal versus alternative rock versus heavy metal (and what bands he heard before they were popular). He's the type that could argue the best foodcarts in the same breath as criticizing how flavorless fucking vegetarian food could be if it wasn't Mediterranean. He's the type of prick that wore what could only be described as guy Fieri shirts as an older teenager and a wallet on a chain for a year in the Academy while he was out of uniform until he decided that was idiotic.

Thankfully he's aged out of most of his prickery outside of strong opinions on music and a love of rich and filthy food cart bounties. He's also incapable of loving himself in choosing his shirt patterns. Sorry.

"Got to go to a few good venues when I went down to Chicago with some friends." Turns out a little strategic planning with a bar crawl can get you a lot of good music there. Detroit's a shitshow for that. Now, he likes sports on the big screen, but sometimes you want something a little more lyrical for an alcohol muddled mind. "That where you're from?"

Pickiness is something David can get behind. Easily. But he takes the player to inspect it, namely the ports. Coding software to read and copy will be easy. Ports are the frustrating thing. And already he is mentally mapping what will need done.

“Might borrow this sometime, rip the music if that’s okay. Could get you digital files for the computer in your room. If needed, code software to let you add mkre.”

Then he hands the device back and considers how to address the question.

“Hyde Park, specifically. Not that I’ve been there in years. Not since high school. Before I ended up at a boarding school in upstate New York. And the biggest problem of that was their music choices and what they called pizza. Lies.”

He will fight the battle over which pizza is better until the heat death of the universe.

"Yeah, no problem. Might be helpful to figure that kind of thing out."

With a test device that's less important to lose. A little music would hurt less to lose track of than a valuable recording of a suspect or witnesses discussing things no one would otherwise know and could be lost to time.

"Just let me know where you are and I can drop it off in your mailbox or whatever. It wasn't expensive."

He's not sure he could find an exact replacement, but he has other reasons to go bargain hunting later. But he ignores that utilitarian, constructive thought for the wonderfully average thought of just hearing where someone is from. (Wait, is that still that X-men thing he was talking about? Literally X-men?)

"I'll always favor Detroit Pizza. I knew some guys that walked a beat on the waterfront." Though honestly he hasn't spoken to any of them for years and years. "Upstate New York should have been boring in comparison. If it weren't for the bigots fuckin' trying to bomb you. Real life experience a kid your age shouldn't have to have had."

‘Trying’ to bomb him. David’s face goes blank for a long moment. He didn’t want to remember again. Didn’t want to fall back into it after Yondu helped him out. When he had no one to talk to. When he speaks it is with a monotone that doesn’t match up to what he’s been up until now.

“Life was complicated at Xavier’s. And between anti-mutant movements, anti-mutant robots from the future, alien invasions, and all the other shit, well, I have experience many years past my age.”

And understatement.

On one hand he can see the reaction. And while he said 'trying', he meant it in the sense that he's guessing that that wasn't the only attempt on his kind. He's guessing because on the other hand, he didn't actually read about it. Because X-men. And never the fuck before has he so regretted that he stayed in the sports hobby and not the comics hobby as an early teenager because reciting Superbowl places from sixteen years ago has not been more fucking useless than it is right now.

"Believe me, I'm not gonna take it lightly. I really need that right now."

He reaches into his novel and pulls out a post-it, written on it are TV station contact locations, but he's not sure where their broadcast towers are. He holds that out. "I need to find out where the actual networks broadcast from. Those messages specifically went out over television networks. Before that, they just used a printer to get their message out. Made me think of how the androids targetted the servers and live feed at a tower. I can try to get you what you need to do that while I'm fishing around for items or info.

"And I uh..." He keeps his voice lower then, much more than it had been, because he's gotten very paranoid of surveillance. Mostly from how his own fucking world has so much of it. "My partner told me that because he'd led the police to the android hiding spot and then changed his mind while he was there, the feds converged on them. Didn't have time to warn them to get out fast enough. A lot of innocent people died because noone believed they were people yet."

He wonders how much guilt Connor would carry with him because of that. He's never talked about it beyond that. He doesn't think he'll ever have the chance to ask.

"If you find out that there was another signal that's not from any official location, I'd wait until we figure out who else is there before we contacted anyone official. Find out who else is there."

Think first, act second? David actually snorts at the very idea. Part of him wants to say ‘that’s not very Scott Summers of you’, even though it is. David knows he just has too many personal feelings wrapped up in a lot of that. So instead he takes the post-it and nods.

“You haven’t had any other offers to help yet, have you? Given how much you’re thrusting at me, I have to assume either it’s low numbers, or I’m just the first tech-head you’ve run into in this. Not that I have a problem. I’ll do what I can with the resources I have. I will point out that if this world is anything like my home, there’s an angle on the printers if you can get one of the original messages. Of course it assumes this world uses the same principles of logic and the cops here haven’t already thought of it.”

Anti-counterfeiting techniques had become quite important back home, and David had read a book once that talked about how all printers have micro-identification codes they print on every bit of paper they print out. Kept people from just scanning and printing money when it could be tracked back to a specific printer.

Still, after he has time to think David nods and pockets the note. He can investigate this as well. Give him something to do when he wasn’t working. Apparently that need to be a hero hadn’t been quite as dead as he’d thought before a certain speedster had waltzed into his life. At least Tommy was safely far from here right now.

“If I find something about an origin sight, I’ll probably watch it for a bit before I even bring it to you. No offense and everything to you and the history you had with your partner. But as someone in the same situation as him in some ways, because fuck if mutants are even seen as vaguely human by some people, I want to make sure first that the trail is accurate, and second as much as I can about who is there. I respect what you’re after Hank, and I sure as hell would like to dislocate some shoulders and maybe jaws over what happened, I haven’t been here long enough to know a lot of the context.”

"That's fine. Didn't tell the story for extra confidence. I don't want anyone to go through what my partner did." He hates the thought that one of Connor's first true feelings, broken free of his code, must have been guilt. David doesn't have the same issue of lack of choice, but he's young enough that Hank wouldn't want that carried with him. It looks like the kid has enough.

"Not a lot of people offered to help in general. You're right. You're definitely the first tech." He genuinely apologizes there. But honestly? Hank fumbles over a phone that's too smart for him, and... well, there goes that train of fucking thought again, he doesn't have Connor. Also back home he had a decent network of people out there on the streets that knew what kind of man he was. Here, he's a new guy in a place where police are rightfully distrusted. He carries a shitty gifted reputation that's not a reflection of his own feelings. His own paperback book is full of post-it notes currently of things to look into. Locations of where detonators can be bought. Suggestions to go hunting for entertainment venues (though that's as much for the music as anything else). Looking over those previous sites. See if there are any warring factions, as Squall said. These people are good at hiding, and the authorities are good at hiding them.

"I was planning on going and looking for the fliers. I have some idea of where to go scrounging." Tracking them by paper type, where it was bought, what the printers did, all stuff that something that occurred to him. But something that probably occurred to the police as well And even if he does find one, it might be in bad shape at this point.

He will, however, still try.

"It'll take a while to get that bomb info. They're gonna keep it on lockdown for a while, and until I've talk 'em into it I'm not gonna have a clear look at it. I only have what I learned at the scene." Which, for the moment, isn't enough to tell more than 'homemade parts', the overheard discussion about the magnitude (which he could at least verify on experienced sight) and that the suspect had to have been in the crowd to set it off.

"If this turns out to be some Matrix shit, I'm going to be really pissed off." He shares that sentiment once again. He hates the uneasiness that comes with the words 'wake up' being directed at all of them. Like they might not be awake enough, even being new and not fully integrated with this society.

Some Matrix shit. Well that earns a very warm smile from David.

“Choose the correct pill, Neo,” he teases as he stands to stretch. Sitting around here much longer will mess with him. “Of course, if it was, wouldn’t this be easier to get out of in some ways?”

But he offers Hank a bit of a smile at least.

“Trust me, I know what it’s like to come down on the wrong side of things because of how you were raised to believe something. I’ll do my best not to screw either of us over. I’ll send you a message when I get back to my room, so you know how to reach me.”

"I don't know, I'd have to figure out which world actually has all my stuff." Though if it's something like that, he has no idea how he'd deal with that.

Oh well. Guess he'll figure that out when he finds out what the bomber wanted.

"Yeah. Please. And I'll keep you in mind if I can find some good music. I don't know what all you're into, but there's gotta be somethin' decent played live." He's guessing perhaps David might not appreciate Metal like he does. But Rhythm and Blues and Jazz Hank can definitely pick through and scrutinize with the heir of a true connoisseur.

“Jazz. I am a cultured Chicago man,” David reminds him with a brief nod. “Good luck, Hank. Hopefully we find a reasonable answer to all of this.”

Not that those answers are likely to be easily won. David offers the briefest nod before heading for the door. God help him, he wants to start looking now.

TEXT: Day after the Festivities

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Seems a good end?