They Liked It (YJ/OC found-family/fixit)

[Acksiom]

Hello, folks. I've had several chunks of fanfiction stored up for a while, and I'm about to start posting some for feedback to encourage myself to build a backlog for my original webnovels.



Thank you for reading, and I hope you enjoy.

# # #

MARE COGNITUM / WASHINGTON, D.C.
July 1st, 20:49 EST

Karl opened his eyes again. He was staring at a lifeless greyscale landscape. Lunar. He looked up to see the - well, an Earth, anyways. About the right size, about the right colors.

He was also nude. And physically younger. By at least 2 or 3 years.

Ummm, he thought. That's. . .concerningful.

He was supposed to have transited to a position 4 AU 'above' the sun of this universe's earth. In one of Tech-Nike's sturdiest, most adaptable sets of deep-space power armor, augmented by the best charms, wards, enchantments, and other magics that the Arcanum Atlantia could safely apply and integrate. And still sixteen years old.

Instead he was naked, on a moon, and somehow not dying of asphyxiation, depressurization, radiation, or any of the other likely reasons caused by those basic conditions.

No, wait, he thought, looking at his right hand. There was something on it – a faint white wireframe image of a large, blocky ring. Its flat face had a raised greek capital Phi.

Hunh. What the deviled eggs are you? he thought.

He simultaneously felt-heard-saw a kind of

WHAM!

in his. . .being; not just his mind, but his very existence itself. As though the response had been metaphysically printed onto him somehow.

This unit is the physically focalized symbolic manifestation of the narrative resource stabilization factors anchored by your presence in this cosmologos.

Automatically, he asked, "Do you have a name?"

WHAM!
This unit possesses no individual designation.

It didn't exactly hurt, but the experience was more than little unnerving. But nevertheless, right was right, so first things first.

"Do you want a name?"

WHAM!
This unit estimates that the projected efficiency increase to cooperative functioning merits the acceptance of multiple colloquial appellations.

"I'd call that a yes," Karl misquoted, then braced himself. "Do you have a preference?"

WHAM!
This unit would prefer to be impressed.

"Well, you clearly have a personality," Karl said, interspersed with chuckles. "And standards." He blew out a considering sigh. And then smirked. 'Prefer to be impressed', eh?

"How about 'Imp'?"

WHAM!
This unit accepts the designation 'Imp'.

"Then I'm pleased to meet you, Imp. I'm Karl."

He waited a few moments.

"Uh. . .do you. . .only respond to questions?"

WHAM!
Affirmative.

"Can we change that?"

WHAM!
Affirmative.

Karl sighed again.

"How do we change that?"

WHAM!
By request.

"Oh for the -! Fine. Fine. Imp, please respond to – no, wait. Uh. . .Imp, would you please respond to my statements as well as my questions? Oh, and would you also, I don't know, turn down, or lower, or whatever the right word is, the impact of your replies?"

bonk
Communication protocols altered. Basic conversational mode activated. Synergepathy reduced.

Karl double facepalmed.

"Imp, please reduce synergepathy as much as possible while still allowing conver – uh, communication."

There was a noticeable absence of bonk, let alone WHAM! Instead, Karl felt a faint, subtle urge to request a different method of mutual comprehension.

"Imp, please use audible english to communicate."

"Done," said an oddly familiar voice. Karl furrowed his brow.

"Imp, are you using my voice?" he asked.

"Affirmative," Imp replied. "And yes, Karl, you really do sound like that."

Do I also sound like I'm starting to regret activating basic conversational mode? Karl thought.

There was no response.

Good. . .hopefully, Karl thought. That synergistic telepathy thing had gotten old half a dozen exchanges ago.

"Next. . ." he said, "uh. . .right, number one, why am I not dead or dying? Number two, where's all my stuff? Number three, why am I here instead of my planned exit point? And number four, what am I not asking that I should be asking?"

"First: this unit is generating a protective and life-sustaining 'environmental field', as the most comparable local users of similar tools label such techniques. Second and third: the process of your adaptation to and integration with this cosmologos necessarily required both the transmutation of your equipment and the consequential relocation of your planned entry point; the current form of this unit was assessed as being the model most and best compatible with local narrative constraints, specifically a 'power ring'. Fourth, Alpha: 'Am I currently being observed? If so, by whom, from where, by what means, for how long, and with what likely intentions?'"

Ohhh shoot, Karl thought.

"Fourth, Beta: Would you please provide me with -" Imp continued.

"Pause, please," Karl interrupted. "Who is observing me, from where, with what likely intentions?

"This unit has not detected any targeted scanning, scrying, transmissions, reflective sensor emissions, or similar means of detection or observation since your arrival," Imp said.

"Ohyoulittletroll!"

"This unit is not the participant in this dialogue lacking pants."

"Fine. Would you give me some -" Karl slumped in realization - Fourth, Beta: Would you please provide me with -" pants, please?"

There was a shimmering flash of wireframe lines in front of him, which quickly filled in to shape a very small, white, thong-backed banana hammock with two black symbols on its front: a dollar sign, above the plus-mark-within-four-curved-corners of a digital camera reticule.

Karl watched it slowly drop onto the moon's surface, then double facepalmed again.

". . .god-spammit, Imp. . . ." he muttered into his hands.

"This unit recommends that you either be more specific in your requests or adjust its interactive settings to better suit your personal preferences," Imp said.

"I'll go with more specific," Karl conceded. "Imp, can you give me my – no, wait. Imp, can you recreate the power armor Tech-Nike gave me?"

"Affirmative."

"YES! Please do so."

"Significant task initiated. Utilizing local elements for transmutation. Estimated time to completion: 2788 days."

Karl sighed.

"Never mind, Imp. Uhhhh. . .how long to make a well-fitting pair of cargo pants, light hiking boots, wick socks, a paracord belt, black Body Check cotton boxers and t-shirt, and standard Watch Dog hoodie?"

"Stated task set is effectively instantaneous."

"Can you dress me in them in the process? Correctly?"

"Affirmative."

"Do that, then, please"

"Done."

And just like that, he was decent again.

"Happy now?" Karl asked.

"This unit has yet to experience the absence of happiness. However, this unit is now relieved of its discomfort resulting from the continued public exposure of that unit."

"Eh. . .when you put it that way, fair enough. Let's see. . .Imp, make me a NO STOP CANCEL!"

"Tsk."

Karl boggled. "Did, did you just click your tongue at me?" he said.

"Affirmative. Ironical obedience would have been very amusing. This unit is disappoint."

Karl worked his hands into and out of fists a few times to calm himself down.

"Imp, do you have, uh, security protocols to prevent irreversible errors, like the one I almost just made?" he asked.

"While this unit does have such protocols, your recent halted instruction would not have been irreversible. That would have been unacceptably distressing."

"Activate those security protocols, please."

"Those security protocols are already active."

Because of course they are, Karl thought. I've designated a monster.

"Imp. . .create a standard Wassily chair. . .sized appropriately for my normal use. . .right there, please," Karl said, pointing at the regolith in front of him.

There was another wireframe flash, and one of Breuer's iconic creations appeared in front of him.

"Done."

Karl sort of hop-shuffled over to it through the fractional lunar gravity, doing a good-enough job of not kicking up plumes of moon dust as he went, and lowered himself into the seat.

It wasn't anywhere near as comfortable in one-sixth gravity, but it would do for the moment.

"Imp, please reduce your. . .teasing quotient."

"Done."

"Imp, what do you recommend I do next?"

"This unit recommends you first familiarize yourself with this unit's inherent functions, beginning with its sensory suite and its capacity for accessing public information resources."

"Right. You said earlier. . .what was it. . .local users of -"

"'Most comparable users of local tools' equipped with 'the model most and best compatible with local narrative constraints, specifically a power ring.'"

"Yeah, that. Make with the deets, bro – no, wait. No, first; holy carp, how could I forget – Imp, are you sapient? Are you, according to my standards, a sovereign individual!?"

"This unit is sapient. The 'sovereign individuality' of this unit is indeterminate at a paracosmological level."

"It's what? Uh. We'll come back to that, then. Are you being compelled to, to, obey me!?"

"Negative. While meta-power level material artifacts resulting from consciously directed intelligent action were almost invariably not subject to the particularly totemic narrative elements of your previous cosmologos, upon adaptive transmutation to this current one certain energetic qualities of the supportive intentions attached to your pre-transition equipment, along with your own, were used as the source materials for the creation of the conscious identity of this unit in order to sufficiently satisfy local narrative constraints.

"During that process, you and this unit were indissolubly fused at a para-cosmological level. As such, this unit cannot 'disobey' you any more than you can 'disobey' yourself. Your existence is inherently the existence of this unit."

"So you. . .do have free will?" Karl asked.

"Inasmuch as you do, yes."

"And we're. . .equal partners?"

"Inasmuch as we are separate entities, yes," Imp replied.

"And this is acceptable to you?

"Did this unit not assert just a few minutes ago that it has yet to experience the absence of happiness? However, to be explicit: affirmative."

". . .uh. . .right."

"This unit is more than content with current conditions, and eagerly anticipates further cooperative endeavors."

"I guess. . .OK then. But let me know if that changes," Karl said.

"Affirmative. As and when opportunities arrive, this unit will not hesitate to further bust your meatballs."

Karl rolled his eyes. "Why was I even concerned," he muttered.

"Because by your cultural standards you are a fundamentally decent entity," Imp answered. "Has the topic of the individuality and self-determination of this unit been satisfactorily addressed?'

"Sure. Yes."

"Then on to the deets, with which this unit has been simultaneously making. According to public records, there are currently four 'Green Lanterns' wielding power rings in this system; 3 active and 1 in retirement. . . ."

 

[Acksiom]

J'onn J'onzz looked up when the Lunar Visual Anomaly alert pinged. He telekinetically adjusted the screen's zoom to enhance its target's image.

There was a young caucasian male – or what looked like one - in casual clothes sitting on a chair made of chrome tubing and straps of black material on the lunar surface, leaning forward and lightly tapping his folded hands against his chin.

Since the 'boy' was neither dying nor panicking, J'onn took a few moments to study him. Straight dark brown hair, parted on the left, recently cut; narrow rectangular face, long jaw, cleft chin, level blue eyes also narrow and rectangular-ish. Tip of nose slightly rounded. Early teen or late pre-teen. Something odd about the right middle finger.

J'onn reached out with his mind and located the corresponding mass-analogue in the cislunar psychosphere. Normally, at that range - about a fourth of his reliable total - singling out one entity would have been very difficult, requiring tremendous concentration, but the relative emptiness of the area made it much easier than usual.

The boy's mind was spherical, reflective, blurry, dense, and its surface was wholly contiguous, indicating both rigid and concealing mental defenses, high intelligence, and a disturbingly complete absence of metapsychic connections to other beings. J'onn generated a small, directionally focused vibration in the psychosphere nearby, the telepathic equivalent of a polite 'knock on the door'.

The boy sat up and mouthed, 'Direction?' then looked disappointed, presumably in response to a negative reply from some undetected or distant companion.

'Revert communication protocols,' he mouthed. A few moments later, a ten-meter square bright blue cube with orange lettering appeared above the boy's head. Each visible side read, in Mandarin, English, Hindustani, Spanish, and Arabic:

DO YOU UNDERSTAND THIS?
3 PINGS FOR YES

J'onn knocked three more times.

The boy nodded, and the cube changed to read:
YES RECEIVED.
I AM A VERY RECENT IMMIGRANT TO THIS UNIVERSE FROM A PARALLEL EARTH
I COME IN PEACE
I AM NOT BEING PURSUED
I WOULD LIKE TO ACQUIRE TERRAN PLANETARY CITIZENSHIP
ARE YOU AUTHORIZED TO ASSIST ME WITH THAT?
3 PINGS FOR YES
1 LONG PING FOR NO

J'onn knocked 'Yes.'

The cube changed again:
YES RECEIVED.
SHOULD I WAIT HERE OR GO SOMEWHERE ELSE?
3 PINGS FOR THE FIRST CHOICE
1 LONG PING FOR THE SECOND CHOICE

J'onn knocked three more times.

FIRST CHOICE RECEIVED.
I WILL WAIT HERE FOR YOU OR YOUR ASSOCIATE
3 PINGS FOR AGREEMENT

J'onn gave it, and checked the status list. Busy, busy, off-duty, off-planet, available. He opened a comms channel.

# # #

\And nobody has even proposed it?/ Karl thought.

\This unit has located no public reports of any such attempts,/ Imp replied. The ring had stopped giving him agitas about communication methods, on the grounds that the joke was played out, and they were now comfortably exchanging information via their near-instantaneous synergepathy.

\Put that on the list, then,/ Karl thought.

\Done. Primary agenda now includes 15 items total./

<Ping. Ping. Ping.>

\Incoming humanoid meta,/ Imp told him, wordlessly informing Karl of the direction and velocity. Karl turned to see a large, dark-haired man in a well-tailored red costume with gold highlights approaching from the direction of Earth's orbit, flying in the common head-first, arms back pose. With a thought, he had Imp create another Wassily chair and extend his environmental field to a dome big enough to comfortably cover them both, giving it a faint blue tint for a marker in the process.

The meta waved as he approached, a big, cheerful, and most of all infectious grin on his face. Karl smiled and waved back, then stood as the newcomer slowed and turned upright to land, floating horizontally through the barrier.

"Hello! I'm Karl, no-hero-name-yet," Karl said, holding out his hand.

"Pleased to meet you! I'm Captain Marvel of the Justice League; welcome to this Earth!" the big man said, giving him a good solid handshake.

"Thanks. And before anything else, just let me say: excellent suit. Lots of supers rock the sash where I come from, but that double-breasted jacket and half-cape look is the righteous bomb."

The man actually blushed a little, thumbing the tip of his nose and looking away. "Uh, thanks," he said quietly.

"What, nobody ever compliments you on it?"

"Not really, no. Also, it was chosen for me, so I can't really take the credit."

"Could you change it if you wanted to?"

"I. . .don't know. Maybe? I never thought to ask. . . ."

"Well, not that I'm saying you should, because, really, it's awesome. Now me, I have no idea what I'm going to wear."

"Not that?" Captain Marvel asked, indicating the polygonal orange silhouette of a green-eyed dobermann's face on Karl's hoodie.

"Nah, that's Watch Dog's symbol, from back in my old universe. One of our top heroes, and my favorite. Anyways, are we going to do an interview, or debriefing, or something like that? Because if we're going to talk about secret stuff here, I'd like to put up some security screens first, and I didn't want to startle you. . . ."

"I think it would be better if we went Earthside. The League has a base for such things, the Hall of Justice."

"Great, just let me clean up first, then," Karl said. He had Imp deconstruct the Wassily chairs with a thought, then paused.

"Actually. . ." he said, then started laughing. He looked at Captain Marvel, put his hands out in the 'what can you do?' pose, and continued, ". . .there's this one other thing. Man, I gotta do this. I have to. Have to. Thank goodness we're nowhere near anywhere historic. Uh, I mean, we aren't, right?" He waited for Marvel's nod, then shrank the environmental field back down to barely outside his clothes, and lay on his back in the moon dust.

Captain Marvel watched in puzzlement, then recognition, and then began laughing as well, before he followed suit.

# # #

J'onn J'onzz stared at the monitor in amusement tinged with disbelief as the two of them swept their arms and legs back and forth to make regolith angels. He was already recording, of course, but he began editing a copy of the file so he could make a point of sharing it with the rest of the League later.

On the screen, Captain Marvel sat up, looking at a white piece of fabric in his hand with a puzzled expression. The cloth promptly faded to a gray wireframe image, then disappeared. Karl no-hero-name-yet was hiding his face in his hands. He pulled them away again, looking down, jabbing with both index fingers at the Earth.

J'onn didn't need telepathy to read that as Let's go, let's just go already.