ahollowman | you'll be a leper, be a healer, be a sinner, be a saint

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you'll be a leper, be a healer, be a sinner, be a saint

What we've been doing for one-fortieth of a second can't continue indefinitely.

If you compare the six days in the Book of Genesis with the four billion years of geologic time, on that scale, one day is equal to about six hundred and seventy million years. At three minutes to midnight on the sixth day, mankind appeared. At one fortieth of a second before midnight, the industrial revolution began.

And it's unsustainable.

There were a couple things I learned eight years ago in a cave with Ho Yinsin. One of them? Was that it's all unsustainable. And it needs to change.

Ultron wasn't wrong. He wasn't right, either. But he wasn't wrong, even if the execution was, even if he lacked empathy. Even if he had no appreciation for the sanctity of life. Something's got to change. We've got to evolve. There's more out there, we've seen it, I've seen it, aliens, the Asgardians, dark energy. Cosmic Cubes. If we keep doing what we're doing, there is no future.

There's just one-fortieth of a second.

Darrow still used fossil fuels. It was weird, and Tony didn't like it. Why did it work that way? What made it that way? Who the hell could say, because Tony had yet to see even a single convincing piece of evidence that Darrow wasn't just some elaborate simulation, that it wasn't thoughts thinking thoughts of their own, ten million billion calculations every second on an alien computer.

So why did his motorcycle still run on gasoline?

There was a way to fix that.

It started with Henry Cheng, a boy whose first language was thought, a boy who needed his RoboBee. It became Panoptes Solutions. Soon it would be too big for the two of them, especially because there were things they couldn't, wouldn't, or shouldn't be in charge of. A think tank of two guys was a pretty shit tank. Phil had asked Tony how he'd sift for employees, and Tony had known the answer. He'd set up shop -- he had literally set up shop, they had computers and a band saw and a screenprinter -- and began to make logic puzzles.

Little metal boxes, opened very specific, convoluted ways. Not all the same, but different, with different kinds of puzzles. Meant to target different kinds of minds. Mechanical intelligence, social intelligence, knowledge of chemistry or advanced maths. Things for tactile learners, some puzzles better suited to observers or the more auditory type.

In the end, they all contained a business card with a web address on it.

The web address took them to a website that prompted them to submit a resume.

And if Tony liked the resume, the submitter was given the address of the shop that would one day be Panoptes Solutions and an invitation for an interview.

[ any characters who might be interested in joining the think tank are free to respond here under the assumption they solved one or more puzzles they found around darrow. it's up to you how difficult it was for your character. they can meet him at his shop, which looks like a half-furnished cement-floored shop with some equipment, a refrigerator, a blaring ghetto blaster, and truck delivery bay doors in the far end of it.or chase him down somewhere else. ]

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The puzzles had been appearing in various corners of the city and Rey had a scavenger's eye still. It was probably not a particularly gracious trait in a Jedi Knight in training to see shiny bits and pieces in the garbage that others should have overlooked, much less to be constantly assessing their potential value in portions. She wasn't just a scavenger anymore but her instincts didn't know that.

With the first puzzle, she'd been amused but thrown away the card. The second and third had been curiosities and the fourth an annoyance. She'd gone to the website and refused to fill in the form, more interested in who was going to the trouble. At the fifth, Rey hooked her datapad to the computer and searched out the source of the website.

Today, five solved puzzles in her arm, Rey used her free hand to pound on the door, waiting for an answer. Her staff was slung over her shoulder and her lightsaber was in her bag. Just in case.

Edited 2016-06-30 07:59 (UTC)

"Ahh!" Tony said, coming to answer his apartment door in nothing but a pair of boxer briefs and an A-shirt. He still needed a shave and fruit and waffles, and coffee, most especially the coffee. And he didn't actually have to be up for work for another two hours, which was deeply important, because Tony worked two to tens, and didn't get to sleep until two in the morning on most nights.

In his defense, that was also his natural chronotype. He'd been tested.

"What? Why? Why do you hate doors so much? If this is about the washer in Bramford I can't help you and I don't want to."

"I don't live at the Bramford," Rey said as her face tried to decide on an expression. What was she to make of this man? He looked even less prepossessing than Han when she'd first met him, half-asleep and not even in his trousers.

She pushed into the doorway and held up her arm, showing him the puzzles. One by one, she plunked them on the table. "Were these supposed to be challenging?"

"Hi. I did not-- yeah, I did not invite you in?" Tony mumbled, following after the girl, who seemed very intent on not actually giving a shit about how doors worked. Maybe she came from a world without doors; Tony was still going to be uncomfortable about it. He was the one who decided when and when not to follow social procedure, not other people.

"Those are my puzzles," he added, stupidly. "And they were, yes, supposed to be challenging. Challenging enough. I'm not looking for the next Einstein, just sort of hoping maybe this place provides one, because they would be cool. Who are you?"

"I don't know who that is," Rey said, dismissing the question into the pile of things to ask later. Her current course of investigation was more focused on this man who had designed several moderately entertaining (and slightly challenging) puzzles, in all their sleek, finished elegance, while he stood half-dressed and confused in front of her.

Picking up one of the logic puzzles, Rey put on her sternest face. "This works by the same logic as putting a lightspeed dampener on an impounded spacecraft. People think the only way to get rid of it is to key in the code or else risk going at lightspeed until a precise point when you can yank it off. No one ever thinks of switching currents and diverting it into emergency shutdown."

"Okay." Tony slowed down, reigned in his own dialogue, and stared at her very intently for an extended heartbeat. "That is all theory, where I come from. But I'm assuming you have, in practice, worked with lightspeed equipment? Which, makes sense. It probably exists somewhere out there in the universe. Given an infinite universe, there are infinite possibilities. So I am taking it entirely as a given that you've worked on FTL spacecraft before."

With that, his ears flushed a light pink. The day, so far, made absolutely no sense, but he wasn't hating it. He might even be enamored.

"And you're right. That was not what I had in mind when I made the thing, but you are absolutely right. At least, based on my limited and theoretical understanding of astrophysical engineering."

Edited 2016-07-04 03:21 (UTC)

Rey looked back at him, her small face even and unreadable as he spoke. Rambled, really. She was starting to think she ought to have used the website after all, if only to see if this man was more interesting when mentally collected.

"It's a thieves' trick on Jakku," she finally said. Not quite bored–Rey was always too invested in these things to sound bored–but practical. It was just the sort of thing you learned on Jakku because either you were a thief, a scavenger, or a dupe. Of that list, only the former two usually got to eat. "And people who don't know it leave their ships for junk if they're on the run."

"That your planet?" Tony asked, looking at her a little strangely. He was growing used to the idea of other planets, dimensions, alien species that looked human and ones that didn't. Used to, but not entirely comfortable. The fact of it always gave him a frisson of insecurity.

"I'm from Earth. No inter-system travel yet. So what were you? Thief? Mechanic? Pilot? Scrapyard worker? No judgment zone."

"Scavenger," she said, short and quick. "But I'm not from Jakku. I was born somewhere else." Rey shrugged and this gesture was also short, curt, because she didn't actually know where she came from.

"So. You put out puzzles to challenge people for work. Why?" Rey shifted her weight, arms crossed over her chest, and waited for something like a satisfactory answer.

"Because I think drive and curiosity are more important than credentials," Tony told her, tossing himself casually into his kitchen chair and gesturing for her to do the same because she might as flippin' well since she'd already invaded his home.

"Please sit, you're making me nervous. What's got you so worked up about my interview methods? You interested?"

When he asked her the question, point blank, Rey was a little stymied. What exactly about them did bother her? Rey stared at him as if he'd asked the question in binary rather than in Basic.

"But they were easy," she finally blurted.

"That says more about you than my boxes, okay. My boxes were cool and not easy. You didn't have to be a member of Mensa to solve them, but that wasn't the point." He looked at her with his dark brows lowered defensively.

"Since you're not leaving, can I get you a rink? Because I'm having a drink. I need a drink right now."

He threw his hands up in the air in defeat and headed toward the kitchen.

Rey raised her brows in return, uncertain as well. This man, Tony, was as constantly in motion as Han Solo had been stubbornly collected and she didn't quite know what to make of it. At the offer of a drink, she shrugged and concentrated back on the puzzles.

"So if I solved five of those, does that mean I have a job?"

When I find the first box, metal and perfectly placed in the middle of the sidewalk, I think it's some kind of a trap.

"Is this some kind of trap?" I say aloud, but no one's paying attention, so I give it a closer look. I give it a shake. I give it a sniff. I hope it doesn't explode in my face as I finally get it open, but inside all I find is a business card.

The fuck?

No wonder someone threw the business card away if you have to solve some bizarre maths puzzle just to fucking get to it. I drop the card on the ground but I keep the box, closing it back up to bring home to Simon in case he wants to give it a go. It's like a fancy numbered rubix cube.

Later, I find two more boxes like the maths one just lying around. I wonder if I've stumbled upon some kind of nerdy scavenger hunt, well, I just happen to enjoy nerdy things and so I'm sucked into trying to open the other two boxes. One has mazes along the sides and latches you have to free to open, the other seems to be about patterns. It doesn't even occur to me to try a spell. I get them both open and find the same business card inside. Now it's got my attention.

The website is nothing but a resume, and I frown, because what the fuck can I put on a resume? A part time job as a bus boy at Semele's? An undercover job as a bouncer for a secret vampire mafia? Snakes, I didn't even graduate Watford. I close the website and let it go.

The next morning on my way to the supermarket I see someone else holding one of the boxes and snort, nodding toward the box. "Sorry to break it to you, but it's just a marketing scheme."

"Hell yes, it is," Tony said from his cafe table nearby, where he was enjoying some chai and a mozz and tomato salad, drizzled with a balsamic reduction. He'd been sticking around, making sure the puzzle got picked yup by someone.

Not the right person this time, though, because the idiot couldn't even figure out it was a puzzle.

"And a damn good one, too.Not my idea, though. Stole it off of Google. Made it better, though."

He peered over his dark glasses.

I pause by the low cafe gate and look the man over. He's dressed in an impeccable suit and tinted glasses like some sort of Darrow equivalent of a secret service agent. Something about him looks familiar, though I can't place it.

"You're the one, with the website resumé? What is it for?" I can't help asking. I had been tempted to fill the form out with lies just to find out what the whole thing was about, but in the end my frustration with being taken here before graduating won out.

"Yeah. I am." He motioned the kid over the barrier to the cafe's veranda. "And it's for a job interview, as I presume most resume prompts are for."

He worked on his coffee for half a moment.

"I'm starting a tech think tank. I'm looking for smart, young people. If there are any of those left after video games rotted their brains. Or is it weed we're worried about again?"

I meant what sort of job, because after it became apparent that I hadn't stumbled upon an elaborate scavenger hunt or geocache one of my initial theories was for a puzzle box toy company. Instead of asking I step inside the cafe patio and pull out a chair to join the man at his table. He explains, anyway, and the corner of my mouth twitches up in a smile.

"I wouldn't know, I'm not into either," I say, but I'm distracted once more by how familiar he is. Other people have pinged me, but he's really tugging at my brain as someone I should know somehow. Maybe a name will help. "I'm Baz, it's good to meet you. I solved three of the boxes and I was going to fill out the resume, but I was brought here at the start of me senior year of high school so I don't exactly have credentials for much."

"Sure," Tony said, because he was terrible at politeness and pleasantries, especially when they came with an English accent.

"Nobody here has credentials. Nobody I'm interested in, anyway. I'm not from Darrow, and I'm not necessarily looking for anyone that is, so I'm not looking at credentials. They don't mean anything. I'm looking for ability, energy and eagerness. If you've got those, the puzzles were already your foot in the door. If you;re not interested, tell me now. I hate wasting my time when I could be doing literally anything else with it."

I raise an eyebrow at his bluntness, but I don't mind it. "Not to be crass, but is this a paid position? I currently work as a bus boy, and it's not exactly how I imagined my future career path going."

I can't help glancing around to make sure Derek isn't in the immediate vicinity. He was generous enough to hire me, however mediocre the position, and I do genuinely like him which I can't say for most people, but I'm far more interested in something along the lines of what the suited man is offering.

"It's paid," Tony said. "I only offer paid positions. None of that 'you get paid in experience' crap. People get paid in money."

Tony raised a black brow, before offering the man a seat with him at the table.

"I don't need to know how interested you are just yet. You wanna talk about this? I've obviously got your curiosity. How do you feel about public works projects? Science in the public interest?"

I'd be interested either way, after all there isn't much to do here in Darrow and now that Simon's having an easier time with things it won't hurt for me to get out a bit more. But paid is better. Paid brings me closer to getting a nice place for Simon and I. One where we can't hear our upstairs neighbors walking around.

I take the seat and nod. "I'm interested. I was considering economics when I graduated, but I also enjoy science. Are you talking, what, like clean energy?"

"I'm Tyrannus Basilton Grimm-Pitch, by the way," I add, realizing we haven't made proper introductions. I give him my full name since there's a chance he might become my boss. "Baz for short."

It takes two boxes for Tim to bring him to the door. Two boxes and a week.

He was suspicious of the first. He chalks that up partially to the fact he was in the suit when he found it and partially from the experience. Puzzles like that made him think of Nygma, and while it was lacking some of they trademarks, he wouldn't put it past Darrow to produce or kidnap someone of a similar leaning.

The fact that there was a business card inside it was a bit on the other side of annoying. He researched the page, checked to see if there were any encryption or malware or anything more than a request for a resume. When he sees that's really all it is, he's a little put out.

Maybe part of him didn't feel confident putting down, "high school dropout," "high school senior," "Wayne Enterprises CEO," and "barista" all on the same resume. Maybe part of him was just disappointed that it wasn't anything more sinister.

Not that Tim wants Darrow to be as overwhelmed with crime as Gotham, but he gets bored with how much it isn't Gotham at times.

But then he found a second on his way to work and something compelled him to pocket it. He knows what's inside. He tells himself that it's just to amuse himself between blending smoothies.

It's a different puzzle, of course. He smiles, thinking about how much someone must really want to find the right employees for their venture. The puzzle is done before the first hour of his shift goes by.

He went home and filled out the resume that night. He got an address the next day.

Now, Tim's standing out the door, two boxes in his bag with his resume (because you bring a copy of that to interviews, right?), feeling slightly overdressed for what might still just be a mugging because who the hell is this cryptic about hiring people?

He knocks anyhow. The bow staff, gauntlets, and a domino are always hidden in his bag at this rate anyhow, and he's got an umbrella for the chances of rain he checked for on his way over.

If he's lucky, maybe he won't be blending smoothies for his savings by his birthday.

"Uh, hi," Tony said, answering the shop's front door to a kid, pale-skinned and dark-haired and reminding him a little of himself in an awkward and uncertain way he wants to ignore. He's met the kid before. Ice cream or something. He doesn't epect him to show up at his doorstop; maybe it's a food delivery. He did order Italian.

"You're not from DiBella's, are you?"

And that is exactly why he brought his resume.

"Uh, no Mr. Stark," Tim says as he pulls the paperwork and one of the boxes from his bag. He does recall him wanting to be called "Tony," but this is business, and 17 or not, he was called "Mr. Wayne" at meetings, even if prefaced with "Young."

"Unless I got the address wrong, I'm here for an interview."

"Tony," he corrected again, because Tony Stark wasn't a huge fan of corporate culture, even if it'd made him twelve billion dollars. That was also why he hadn't set a specific time to interview anyone who he invited; only an open time window of 'business hours, M-F.'

"You interested in this sort of thing? Cutting edge tech? Clean, smart, cool? You do photography, right? That was your thing? Could use a photographer."

Oh boy. Eccentricity is not a front here, then.

As he wonders how Bruce would react to Tony (not well, he's guessing), Tim pulls out a tablet.

"Actually, photography is more or less just a hobby. This is more what I thought I'd be doing here."

It's mostly compiled of parts from last generation models he bought here and there, and he has a bunch of what he considers essentials for life in Darrow; your typical shopping and social media apps, Chalkboard for his accelerated classes. Catsunami, because even he needs mindless entertainment.

But, the majority of apps are Tim's own. Nothing too big. The really good stuff is hidden on his phone. He doesn't think there's too much harm in showing apps like the one he set up to listen to police scanners and get push notifications for things coming his way, though. Given what he arrived to, he thought it was something pretty much anyone would find useful, if they wanted to run from danger instead of toward it as he did.

A few others are versions of other data collecting tools he uses in his detective work, but adjusted so they could be used instead for academic purposes, scientific research, or even creative and social endeavors.

And a game called "Yappy Bird," but that's just out of boredom between work and Catsunami. Tim is not much of an artist out of photography.

Edited 2016-07-04 05:48 (UTC)

"Really?" Tony's dark brow darted.

He took the tablet, looked over it, wildly scrolling through the apps, making noises, both impressed and less impressed, though for which reasons, he didn't share. Still, it was a nice body of work. Tony'd maybe been better at that age, but he'd also had a world of privileges. And from what he remembered, Tim had lived an odd childhood.

"Cool," he said, "Good job." The understated words were high praise from Tony Stark.

"Hired. You're on. Don't get a big head."

Tim takes his tablet back a little startles.

"Wait, that's it?" he asks, disbelieving.

After all, Tony didn't seem to recall his application at all. Even to blend over-priced frozen fruit, there was a lengthy interview with annoying questions regarding work ethic and how much desire to provide a service towards a healthier life style.

"There's no more interview process than that?"

"What?" Tony looked up, equally startled.

"I'm not a hiring manager. I'm a team leader. My gut tells me I want you on my team, you gave me a fried Oreo, and if you don't fit Darrow law says I have thirty days to fire you for literally any reason. Did you ... want an interview? Because I could, I dunno. Ask you questions."

He considered, not for very long.

"There's a train with thirty people in it headed down a track toward a bridge that's been washed out by a storm. You're near the lever that can switch the train to the other track. You can save the thirty people in the train, but only by killing one person who is working on the other track. What do you do?"

Tim's mouth presses into a thin line. It's not a situation he's entirely unfamiliar with, in actuality, and part of him really doesn't appreciate this suddenly becoming part of his interview.

"I figure out a way to get the worker off the track safely while getting the lever. No one dies."

He says it clearly, without hesitation, and with absolute certainty. He doesn't divulge that he already knows the details would likely be done with a mask and cape, or the use of a grapple gun. Even without the obvious way, Tim still would be figuring out a number of other ways out, depending on the actual lay out of the scenario.

Edited 2016-07-10 21:37 (UTC)

"That's right," Tony said. He stood and moved toward the coffee pot at the counter on the other side of the room.

"That's correct. I know there isn't supposed to be a right answer to that question, but there is, and you had it, I don't care. Your answer is exactly what I'm looking for. Because there's always a better way to do something. And there's never a situation where you only have two choices. Because when you start letting yourself think like that, well. When all you've got is a hammer..."

Tony shrugged, and poured himself a cup.

"Coffee?"

His shoulders relax and he follows Tony further into the shop. It's... a bit of a dump, but in the way that his room is a bit of a dump. Full of unfinished ideas, but ideas that are clearly taking shape and obviously in need of more hands to be realized. Things that could be dangerous in less intelligent or less scrupulous hands. No wonder the hiring process is going the way it is.

"Uh, sure. Black is fine."

He poured it into a mug with a smiley face on i, black, and handed it over. He poured a cup for himself also, with a little sugar.

"Haven't told me whether or not you're interested yet," he said, watching Tim. "It's paid. No benefits yet, but they'll be in the contract at signing. Six months for full benefits. Call it a probationary period or call it loops to jump through, both would be the right answer."

"I'm interested," he answers before taking the mug. He takes a sip and the rest of the nervous tension seems to slip off Tim's shoulders. He ran out this morning and ended up settling for tea on the way.

"Honestly, I was more concerned when I found the first box, but I didn't find anything sketchy in the web address. There's, uh, a bad association with little puzzles like this just being left around where I'm from. But the second had me realized that I was bored with doing the whole 'normal' teenage after-school job thing. So, definitely interested."

His hand tightens a little on his mug.

"I'm just wondering if you're really interested in having a kid on the job. I mean, I'll be eighteen in a few days, but I still have a year of high school."

Not that he wouldn't hesitate to drop out again if he feels like the work he's doing is more important, but that aspect of a normal teen life is one he honestly likes, the week before prom aside.

"I love kids," Tony said. He did not. Alhough he understood them, because he was half a child himself. He did not dislike kids, though, because he saved the effort of dislike for things that deserved it.

"Serial killer or something? Bad association sounds interesting. Where I come from, cryptic hiring practices are Google territory. Also possibly the CIA, if you believe the rumors about Cicada 3301."

Tim nods, but internally cringes a little. He's not quite convinced Tony's tone and facial expression matched right for sincerity there.

"Not at first. More a thief and con artist with a bad compulsion that typically got him locked up in the end. But it escalated when he got frustrated with getting caught," he explains.

"It's mostly a Gotham thing, really. A lot of, uh, dangerous nutjobs so to say, so a little paranoia is kind of necessary for survival."

"Gotham?" Tony wrinkled his face up. "What a depressing damn name for a city. They could have picked literally anything else, and they went with that?"

Tony waved it away. Dangerous nutjobs? That he could relate to, that he could understand. He'd begun to make a career out of having his own rogues gallery of nutjobs, with Killian on the top.

Galen had no idea what to put on his resume. The puzzle boxes had been easy. Relatively speaking at least, because when you could access the Force and the binding energy of every living thing in the galaxy could direct you to do what was "right" then it was pretty easy. On his own Galen probably just would have cut them open with his lightsaber to see what was inside.

The hard part was figuring out what to put on a resume. He didn't particularly need a job, nor did he really want one. But this seemed like the sort of thing people who were trying to get out of this city would do so he decided to give it a try. His resume had been short.

Former assassin and revolutionary. Problem solver. Unconventional employment history.

That was it. If the universe wanted him to get the job then that would have to be enough. He was mostly trying to not get the interview and give himself an excuse to not take the job. It didn't work.

He was given an address to what looked like if it tried hard enough one day it would be a workshop. Today was not that day though.

"Hello?" Galen called out, narrowly avoiding drawing his lightsaber out of habit. "I'm here about the job from the puzzle?"

"Problem solver?" Tony said, as he spun into view on a black, sturdy-looking metal stool. Tony was a non-traditional workplace kind of guy; he could appreciate a non-traditional resume. And he could appreciate most of all someone who identified themselves as a problem solver, given only a few sentences.

"Still interested? Have a seat. there's--" He waved around the shop, to illustrate the various chairs and sittable surfaces.

"So, like making stuff?"

The first thing Galen noticed about this guy was how different he was from Vader. Which was ridiculous because he'd never met anyone like his old Master other than Vader himself. But this guy was so different, entirely relaxed and comfortable with himself. Galen got the sense that the guy actually liked who he was, which was definitely different from Vader. Already he was feeling good about this.

"... Not exactly," he said, reaching out with the Force to pull one of the seats to him before sitting down on the plain stool without even looking. It wasn't even that he was showing off, not entirely, just a small demonstration of what he could do. "I have a basic knowledge of technology that's more advanced than what's here but I am a problem solver. Most of my life the problem I was pointed at happened to be the eradication of a certain Order. I'd like to do something more... beneficial now. I solved the puzzle because I can reach out and attune myself with something called the Force. It can guide me toward the 'right' course of actions for things."

Tony raised both brows in restrained surprise. If there was anything he'd have liked to hear, it was what he was being told; there were people in Darrow comfortable with working with advanced tech. More advanced than Darrow, anyway. 'More advanced' was always a sliding scale, especially anymore.

"Okay, sweet trick," he said, pointing at the stool the man had called over to sit in.

"The way you're descrbing your ability right now is making me bothered, so I'm gonna-- we can poke at that later. I get it. I get being done, I get wanting to go in a different direction. Especially because there will be no eradication involved. I'm looking for thinkers and makers. I wanna make Darrow suck less. You think you're in?"

Galen wasn't sure if he would consider himself a builder and a maker. Galen could build things, he had a basic understanding of electronics, mechanics, computing, and other things but it wasn't what he was. But maybe it could be? Maybe that was what he could become, or at least be useful for security for what this man wanted.

"I am," Galen said, almost surprised by how sure he sounded. Because he did want to make this place better. "Would you like to see something I built? I didn't design it should give you an idea of what I know."

"Yeah," Tony said. He turned his curiosity on the man he was interviewing, if that was the right word for it. It could have been simple, Tony didn't care, so long as it was built by the man's two hands, because somehow that mattered to Tony.

"I'd like to see it. You have it with? If bot, I guess it's field trip time.n

Edited 2016-07-14 17:53 (UTC)

"It's called a lightsaber," Galen said, unhooking it from his belt before letting it levitate in the air between them. He reached down and found that place of calm where the Light Side of the Force seemed to surround and engulf him. Using the Force he disassembled the blade into it's various, individual components.

"It's blade is plasma and it's powered by a kyber crystal. It can cut through nearly everything."

Tony stared at the blade with an expression somewhere between a child's greedy fascination and a deep fear, because it could cut through anything, and Tony was a man obsessed with being safe, protected, wrapped up away from harm. He wanted to reverse engineer the thing. He was sure he should never be allowed to.

"Okay," he admitted, "I'm impressed now."

He reached a hand closer. The temperature was low, and the hair on his arm wasn't being raised.

"Holy Christ. The positive ions and free electrons are in practically perfect balance. It has no electric charge. Perfect collective behavior. You can hold the thing in your hand? Respect. Please turn it off now."

Galen took the lightsaber back into his hand and turned it off. It probably wouldn't really do to defy a potential employer but at least the man seemed to be impressed by it. While Galen didn't exactly invent the lightsaber he did understand and know how to use it.

"So do I have a job?" Galen asked. "I come with the added bonus of being a... security expert."

Tony liked the sound of security expert, although he wasn't about to admit it. He'd been his own bodyguard for years, but now, potentially, he had a list of employees to think of. People who could be targeted by KIRIN, the way Tony had been targeted by his stable of nutjobs. His own emons.

He held out a hand to take Galen's.

"You're hired. For as long as you'll have me. When can you start?"

Galen was honestly a little surprised that he got the job. He wasn't sure he had even really wanted it when he first got here but once Tony had started telling him about it Galen really wanted this job. He wanted to do something important, something that helped people.

"Well, I'd have to clear my busy schedule of meditating and getting frustrated that I can't find a way out, but I think I could start immediately," he said, reaching out to shake the man's hand.

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