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Second Opinion [IC]


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"No," Dragonfly responded, a little flatly. "The lessons, I mean," she corrected, shaking her head. "Idea is...interesting, but dangerous, and have other, more...personal concerns about their application to my mind. Will pass, for now at very least." She honestly wasn't sure how her rather nonstandard brain would react to that kind of brain pattern manipulation, but she had a sneaking suspicion that it wouldn't turn out well. Or a paranoid suspicion. not really paranoid if you're usually right - mmh - focus

"Curious, while you 'shift': how many...vocabulary, mmh....settings? Settings. How many 'settings' do you have, or use, of mental edits?"

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"Yes, now would be a good time for another shift," Miss A agreed, entering a few more commands into the computer. The idea of the doctor's mental shifts was fascinating and enticing, but it was something she'd rather pursue on her own. Her mind was her own domain, and frankly, it looked as though despite his prodigious skill, the good doctor had made something of a mess of his. And although Gina's mind might be imperfect in many glaring ways, she was for once probably the least mentally aberrant person in the room, which was quite odd and a little depressing. "Whenever you're ready."

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He nodded in acceptance of their refusal. "There are six which I use regularly, and another dozen or so in the 'beta stages' of testing." As he spoke, his tone shifted from the calm, serene one to a clipped, focused one. The brain scans showed a shift in the sensory areas, and enhanced activity in the coordination and reflex memory regions.

Ohmmm scanning area - assessing potential projectiles - calculating angles - calculating probable vectors - calculating weak spots

He reached into one of his labcoat pockets, and retrieved what looked like a hockey puck. His hand fidgeted with it, walking it across his knuckles and tossing it in the air a few times. "This one is optimized for combat, specifically ranged combat."

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Dragonfly frowned for a moment at the scans, glancing up in Doctor Archeville's direction with a mixture of scientific curiosity and a curiosity that was decidedly more...impish. As the scans continued to come in, she pulled a piece of standard computer paper out of her dimensional pocket, folding it up into a little paper footboll.

She took a moment to pick out an area of Miss Americana's lab that didn't have anything fragile nearby (and to wait until said scientist was distracted, as Dragonfly sincerely doubted she'd approve of the test she was about to conduct) before getting Archeville's attention with a gesture and a flat, "Pull," flicking the football through the air across his field of vision.

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Playful streak. Good to know. Everyone should have some fun, once in a while.

At Dragonfly's gesture, he palmed the puck and traced a crescent moon on one side with his thumb. As he did, short spikes emerged from around half the edge. At her word, he flung the half-spiked puck about a half foot to her left, spinning like a blinged-out wheel as traveled along a graceful arc until it struck the edge of a corner of the keyboard with its non-spiked edge. Ricocheting off, and no no longer spinning, it headed straight for the paper triangle, spearing it on one of the spikes and carrying it to the ceiling, pinning it to one of the noise-dispersing tiles.

Archeville smirked. "Mainly use it to pin or disarm opponents. Or win prizes for dates at carnivals."

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Miss Americana twitched visibly as Doktor Archeville banked his projectile off her equipment. "That's enough," she snapped, before deliberately modulating her tone. "Very impressive, Doktor," she said tightly, "but this is still my laboratory and my very sensitive equipment. Target shooting is going to have to wait for another time. Do you have any other mental forms you'd like to display for us before we begin the real-time monitoring and let you go about your work?"

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Dragonfly winced at the shot's ricochet. She'd only wanted data from a brain setting that was being actively employed, to compare with 'idle' data and the data from the actively-employed 'mad inventor' mode; she'd deliberately tried to set up a shot that couldn't damage anything, but hadn't predicted hidden spikes - much less a shot bounced off something else!

She was about to say as much, too, when Miss Americana expressed her...displeasure. She winced again, and silently turned back to regard the incoming data, hands in her lap. note to self - note model - replace keyboard - and provide a spare? - just in case

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Archeville closed his eyes again, and the brainscans showed his mind reverting back to the 'standard' iteration he had when it it was first used on him, the charismatic 'face' one.

Ooops! Best to make amends!

Archeville's hands shot up, "sorry! Sorry! As you can see, sometimes my mind gets away from me. I will of course be happy to pay for any damages! But, ah, no, my only other regularly used one is melee combat-oriented, and I do not think that would go over well. So, I shall go, and return in two weeks for the results!"

And an answer to my recent bouts of nightmares!

Soon he was gone, leaving the two Lab scientists to consider what all had just transpired.

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  • 2 weeks later...

April 8th, 2011 (Friday), early evening

Two weeks later, Archeville returned to Miss Americana's lab in The Lab. In that time, he'd lunched with Winfried Kretschmann (set to be the first Green German state premier following the party's success in elections in Archeville's home state of Baden-Württemberg), had the honor of helping two of Freedom's heroes plan their wedding, assisted in the Freedom League's relief efforts in Japan, and numerous other tasks fitting a rock star Fortune 500 CEO super-science-hero.

His Other side had also been quite busy, though in the intervening two weeks there had been only one night of bad dreams, with n impossibly pretty woman and her odoriferous dog-man protector.

I hope they have found something!

"Good evening, Miss Americana," he greeted as he walked through her door. "I trust all has been well?"

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"Well enough," Miss A agreed, "busy as usual, but you know how it goes. I've asked Dragonfly to sit in on this meeting as well," she told him, nodding over to her colleague, "since she's been helping me with the data analysis. We've got a fairly comprehensive set of readings from you for the past two weeks, which is the sort of sample I was hoping to get in order for us to start determining exactly how your brain chemistry has been altered." Not wanting to waste any time, she got right into it. "Feel free to have a snack or drink if you'd like," she offered offhandedly, gesturing to her mini-fridge.

She brought up a variety of charts and graphs on the wall screens, pointing to them as she spoke. "We were able to note several times when you shifted your mental patterns in the way you demonstrated in the lab, and noted the times and length of time of the changes. Most of the other fluctuations we saw fit within the normal parameters of expected activity and, though we've flagged them, I'm not terribly concerned. There are a few interesting aberrations, however." She brought up another screen, this one highlighting three different sets of readings. "Here, here and here, all separate nights, all when you gave the impression of being deeply asleep, we started to see some very strange readings. At this point I don't know whether there was some sort of malfunction in the equipment or whether it's an aberration we haven't seen so far."

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Dragonfly nodded, frowning. "Would be...very coincidental, for an malfunction. Odds of repeated anomalies at night showing same patterns due to incidental damage or a design flaw would be...." She shook her head. She'd actually done the math, of course, but over time she'd learned that most people - even scientists - don't particularly want the math when a simple 'unlikely' would do. "...very unlikely. And even if it was a bug, would have to be set off by something abnormal in the input, which would imply that something happened."

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"Fascinating!," he exclaimed as he retrieved a power drink from the mini-fridge. "Ah, yes -- that is when I was in a firefight with the Power Corps... and there is when I had to calculate how to throw a small rubber ball through a veritable maze of pipes to hit a switch that would unlock a release valves at a damaged nuclear plant. How delightful!"

But what does it meeeaaannn?

"I do recall having a particular vivid dream that night," he pointed to the second flagged aberration, "of some unusual metahumans I had seen on the news earlier that day. So perhaps that is just how my brain works when I dream so vividly. But that night," he pointed to the third aberration, occurring the night immediately after the second, "I do not recall any atypically vivid dreams. And that night," he pointed to the first aberration, "the first night I wore it, was also one without recollection of vivid dreaming. Of course," he took a drink, "just because I do not recall any such dreams those nights does not mean I did not have them; even my memory does not record everything my subconscious does. I- oh."

Wait - that second night was the day I had helped Billy and Lynn plan their wedding. And that night, I rather enjoyed the frame of mind all this talk of weddings had put dear,, sweet Mona in. Mmmmm...

A fraction of a moment later, he snapped back from his reverie, his face just a touch redder than it was before. "That third night, I was quite... active. With Fulcrum. So... perhaps these aberrant readings are from heightened, intense emotional stimulation? Which would fit with that first night, too, as I was quite excited at the prospect of what these studies and your work would find!"

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"It's possible," Miss A allowed, "but there's no physiological reason for your strong emotions to have produced that kind of fluctuation on our equipment. If that is the case, then there's some unmapped abnormality in your brain chemistry still and we're going to need to run some more tests. For the moment, I think we'll proceed by the Occam's Razor route, and first check to make sure that the equipment is still functioning as intended." She approached the doctor, extending one perfect hand. "With your permission, I'll use my powers to check the sensors without going to all the trouble of detaching them. You won't feel a thing, all the sensors are entirely passive."

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"Mmh. Maybe. Skeptical," Dragonfly admitted, frowning over scans. "Too...regular. Different sources of excitement would have to present in the same way each time, only after sleep...seems like there should be more variation. Too easy to isolate the aberrations. Especially concerned," she added, gesturing to a couple of the scans, "with April first. Shows...oscillation? Maybe too slow for word to fit. But aberrant reading, then...reflection? Very strange data. Fascinating, sort of. Miss Americana's right, though - best to rule out malfunction, unlikely or not. Eliminate possible sources of confusion."

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