groovygamers.com

Sylvia sat in the cafe near the book store and looked at the menu.  She knew she wanted to eat, but the idea of actually deciding was something she thought required too much energy.

"I recommend the tuna salad."  A familiar voice said, and a chair at her table was pulled out and Logan Darklighter sat down.  "The BLT is also very good here, although not as healthy.  You don't mind if I join you do you?"

One of the axioms of life is that it's always on the bad-hair, shabby-clothing days, when you're bumming around town on your own, that you bump into people you know.  Sylvia ran a hand over her hair and pulled the lurid stripes of her handknit cardigan closed over her shrinking, decrepit gymnastics-camp tee-shirt.  "Hi," she said, and almost winced at the cheerleader brightness of her own voice.  It was Logan, after all, and she wasn't sure whether to greet him like a friend or put on some dark glasses for a game of spy-versus-spy.  She tried for careful civility, and a bit more sophistication.  "Yeah, sure.  Go right ahead."  Conversation--how to make it?  "Are you here on your own?"

Logan didn't typically travel with an entourage, but he had his share of worshipful cronies whose company he sometimes tolerated.  She was afraid she might be mistaken for one.

"Until now."  he said, waving the waitress over and ordering a cup of Herba Monte tea.  "I was going to have a bite of lunch before hitting the bookstore.  I'm studying up on global warming.  Something someone said interested me so I thought I'd do a little reading.  What about you, recovering from the fun and excitement at the school yesterday?"

"Fun and excitement?  You must not have gone to the same party I did."  She raised an eyebrow at him.  "Or maybe you were there with a different crowd.  Did you get caught up in any part of it?  Sleeping gas?  Demon sacrifice?"

"Nope."  he says shaking his head.  "I was clear of most of the trouble, but oddly enough I'm having trouble putting all the pieces together as to who was behind it.  first blush had me thinking it was the witch coven."  His tea arrives and he adds some sugar to it, "But too many things were happening in too tight a time frame, way beyond their talent for coordination."  He looks up at her and smiles, taking a sip of tea.  "I think a new player is in the game, or the mastermind behind everything has stepped up operations."

With tea and sandwiches between them, she finds his obliqueness less aggravating and more . . . entertaining.  She smiles a little, and it doesn't feel as weird as it ought.  "The mastermind who's not a mastermind?  Are you still withholding names?"

With a bite of sandwich in his mouth he nods.  "If I told you names you and your friends would be compelled to act on them.  That seems a little unfair, don't you think?  But, to answer your question no.  I think the person that ran that mayhem the other day was the real mastermind, which is why I'm having trouble figuring it all out."

"If it's any concelation I don't reveal your names to the people on the other side of the good and evil line that I talk to."

"I'm not sure you can walk the line like that.  Edmund Burke said that the only thing necessary for the triumph of evil is for good men to do nothing, but I guess that presupposes the intention to do good."  Then, fit of erudition exhausted, she thinks about what Logan said.  "What are they like, the people on the other side?  How do they justify what they do?"

"Burke's philosophy is sound, but your caveat leaves out the possibility of true neuitrality.  Journalists make contacts with terrorists to do in depth stories, they protect the identities of people who have committed crimes under the banner of journalism.  I don't see how what I'm doing is all that different.  I'm compiling information, maybe not to write a book or story, but it's the same."


"Pretty much like you guys, they cover the spectrum.  You have the passionate underdogs that want to right perceived social injustice.  The people that think because they have certain gifts the world owes them something.  The lonely romantice that uses their talents in the pursuit of true love.  And the lunatic fringe that is in it for the thrill or the money.  When you peel away most of the layers you end up with teenagers trying to figure out their place in a world where they don't completely fit.  They want acceptance, respect, love and safety."  He takes another sip of tea.  "Justification gets more selfish on the other side of the line.  There are some with oddly altruistic ideas buried in their personal rhetoric but for the most part they want things for themselves.  I'm starting to think that is the imaginary line between good and evil.  Selfish and selfless.  My problem with that is, how long can you be selfless before you have nothing of yourself left."

"A journalist aims to change the world, doesn't he?  That's why they give out Pulitzers."


"Altruism has a genetic basis, did you know?  Vervet monkeys warn other monkeys about predators, even though it exposes the individual to greater peril.  Bats regurgitate blood to feed other bats.  Primitively, at least, altruism is a means of ensuring the survival of a species, the survival of genes, rather than individuals.  You're right.  It doesn't have much to do with individuality, but what's that worth, anyway?"  She issues her rhetoric and finds herself smiling, still.

"Is it to change the world then, or win a prize?  Immortality or to serve mankind in some great way, recognized or not."


"I often ask that myself.  But you can't have saints unless you have sinners, so I guess it plays an ultimate role in the balance of things."

"So, you have any plans for your long weekend, you and Donnie going to do anything fun?"

"I guess it's a matter of realism versus idealism.  They give out the prize to celebrate the idea that the right words at the right time can change the world, but I guess someone who goes after a Pulitzer does it for personal gratification.  Good and evil is about a person's motivations, maybe?"


Consternation crinkles her brow.  "Maybe.  I don't know.  Nothing was mentioned."  Quick, change the subject.  "Do you have a girlfriend?"

"Maybe.  Actions are good and evil as perceived through the eyes of others, but it seems more reasonable that a person's motivations are the only real clue."


"That made you uncomfortable."  he says matter of factly.  "I didn't realize the subject was tender, I'll avoid it in the future."  He takes a bite of his sandwich.  "No girlfriend.  Still trying to figure me out, no sense in letting some innocent bystander get caught up in that mess until I know what's going on myself."

"I suppose, though, that everyone feels justified in what they do."  She goes serious for a moment.  "I feel bad about hurting and manipulating people, even when I know it has to be done--self-defense and all.  I worry about the slippery slope, you know?  Like, will there ever come a point at which I'm telling myself I'm doing something for the greater good when I'm doing it to serve my own purposes?  Someone I know says that, as long as I keep asking myself that question, I can't go too far wrong."


"Are you human?  Are you actually a sixteen-year-old male?  With testicles?  There are girls all over the school who wear push-up bras with your initials embroidered on the cups."

"That seems fairly reasonable.  If you ask the question, and then can fairly debate your reasoning you should be fine.  I suppose that every hero feels bad by degrees.  They have to hurt people sometimes, and they surely have to lie if they have a secret identity.  It certainly adds weight to the argument that motivation is a better measure of good or evil."


Logan chuckles slightly, "Maybe I'm a silent partner in the embroidered push up bra business.  Manipulating the market for profit."  He takes a sip of tea.  "See, that's part of the problem though.  They think they want something, they see a shiny wrapper and they feel certain the contents are sweet candy.  For all they know though, the contents are poisonous.  Until the label is clear, I don't think it's wise to offer too much of the contents to anyone."

"That's unexpectedly ethical of you.  How can you try to maintain your neutrality in the struggle between good and evil when you care about getting someone involved in a bad relationship?  You obviously have a sense of compassion."

"Really?"  he gives her a questioning look.  "It seemed logical, no hassles with trying to get the other person to understand my point of view.  Outside influences like that could make me do something in some attempt to please the other person and not for my own reasons.  Besides, most of the girls I meet that are interested in me are vacuums of rational thought.  I'm not ready to step down there yet just for the possible pleasures of a physical relationship."

"'Vacuums of rational thought.'"  She doesn't reprove him for the phrase.  Instead she seems amused.  "So, when you meet your super-genius super-model, you think you'll be able to maintain your integrity?  You'll still refuse to do anything selfless to please this goddess?"

"Let's wait and see.  I try not to be swayed by physical beauty.  An ingaging mind is more important to me now.  A couple years ago I would have been swayed by a pretty face."

"I've heard you were a little less put-together then."

"That's an understatement.  Acne, my hair would never lay flat, I needed glasses and my teeth weren't straight.  I had also grown four inches in two months and was clumsy and then there was the stutter.  I was not the ideal candidate for Prom King."

"How did you get over all that?  Deal with the devil?"

"A question I asked.  Luck, good genes, not sure.  But, it was what put me on my current path.  I changed on the outside, and everyone started treating me differently.  I changed my personality, and more people started treating me differently.  So, I started to really think about the world, and people.  And here we are, enjoying lunch chatting about good and evil."

"Wait a second.  You seem to imply we wouldn't be having this conversation if you hadn't changed."  She lifts her nose in mock hauteur.  "I'm not that shallow."

"Well, to put a finer point on it, I'd likely be talking about some science fiction or fantasy book I was reading, or some comic book.  Not philosophy of good and evil and how they apply to me."  He smiles, "As for shallow, I apologize if I gave even the slightest offense.  If I thought you were shallow, we certainly wouldn't be talking."

She smiles indulgently.  "You don't read those things anymore?"

"I still read them, but I can make other conversation as well."

Sylvia asks him what he's reading, tries to get him to geek out a little.  She wants to know what he's like when they're not sparring, and for some reason this conversation feels different.  It's like they're human beings, getting to know each other, instead of secret agents in a cold war.  Maybe the absence of the school's institutional architecture, its acoustic tile and ugly linoleum, makes things different.

Logan talks a bit about the various things he's reading.  If he's to be taken at face value he's reading three nonfiction works and six fiction books.  He admits he's behind in his comic book consumption, mainly waiting for a miniseries that he's interested to go to graphic novel format before picking it up.  His non fiction selections are about climate change, nanobot manufacturing theory and quantum computing.  His fiction is as eclectic being a mix of high action and deep romance/drama.

He has to explain the basics of quantum computing to her.  When he fills her in, she wears the expression of a dog doing its damnedest to follow a speeding Ferrari.  "So . . . quantum computing is especially significant to cryptanalysis--like decrypting things?  And once it's become a viable technology, it'll be seriously hard to transmit secret information?  You're not planning world domination or anything like that, are you?"

"Well, not formally.  It's just one of the motivations I'm studying."  He says with a smile.  "Cheesecake?  It's very good here.  My treat."

She pauses, wondering what her friends would say about her having tea and cheesecake with Logan Darklighter.  "How can anyone turn down cheesecake?  Thanks."

"So, since we've talked about my thoughts on evil and good.  I was wondering, have you ever thought about the things you could do with your powers if you decided to take a walk on the other side.  Rob banks, steal secrets, kill?"

[I'm assuming Sylvia told him what her powers were.  I can't remember.]

She sucks her lip against her teeth and nods.  "I could mess with people big-time.  The most I've seriously considered doing was putting my speech teacher in a good mood before my presentation.  But I'd make a terrible villain.  I'd feel bad about it.  Messing with someone's head is pretty awful, and I value my peace of mind even more than an A in speech."  She smiles.  "But if I were someone else?  I could be the most popular girl in school, and that's just thinking small."

[No, she didn't]

"Well, who's to say that a villain doesn't feel bad when they're committing their crime.  They just rationalize it and move on, or eventually they stop doing the things that bother them.  I guess that's where I'm hung up.  I think it's very possible to be a villain, to commit crimes for selfish reasons and not do anything that would bother me."

[Rewrite.]


She gives her answer some thought before she replies.  "Sure.  I could turn the school into my own little kingdom, probably, and that's just a start.  But I'd feel bad about it.  And in a way it would be too easy.  I guess I feel a responsibility to try harder than that, you know?"  A little smile crosses her face.  "But sometimes I think about what it would be like to be as conscienceless as the kids on the other side of things.  Exciting, I bet, like getting high and stealing a car.  Maybe the only reason I haven't gone over to the dark side is that nothing's tempted me yet.  I haven't wanted anything that badly."

Logan nods as Sylvia explains her position.  "Sounds reasonable.  I wonder if I'd have more motivation one way or the other if I had super powers."  The idea seems to absorb him into silence for a moment.

"What do you mean by super powers?  I read somewhere that we each bear a responsibility to our gifts, whatever they may be.  Intellect is a power.  Whereas someone like me can only aspire to save the world for a day, it's the geniuses of history who can aspire to save the world for centuries to come."

"Or by the same token become the people responsible for countless suffering and deaths.  In the end it all comes down to moments.  Droplets of time where decisions are made and actions take place. "

"Action proves character, I've heard, but I'm just a bundle of pithy clichés today.  Someone told me being paranormal doesn't obligate you to be a hero, or a villain, and I guess the same goes for any other gift.  You could live a perfectly good, and totally inconsequential, life.  Maybe you'd be happy."

"There's something I hadn't considered. "  he says, finishing his cheese cake.  "It's been nice, but I need to get going.  See you on Monday if not before."  He gets up and heads out of the cafe.

Sylvia spends the next little while trying to figure out what she might have said to offend him.