groovygamers.com

Sylvia had made an effort to chat with Loga a few days ago.  She was following that up with trying to have lunch with him, something her self-imposed exile from the Usual Suspects table made easier.

She'd learned that Logan usually had lunch alone on the benches just outside the front doors of the school.  She found him there today, eating a sandwich and washing it down with a bottle of water.  He noticed her approach and smiled, "Freshman are supposed to have lunch in the North Cafeteria."  he said.  "If anyone asks me, I thought you were a Junior.  Come, sit down."

His welcome makes it easier for her to relax.  She seats herself and rummages through her bag until she finds her bottle of iced tea, something to hold so it looks like she's there for a purpose.  "It's so noisy in there.  We're packed in shoulder-to-shoulder.  Sometimes you need a little space, you know?"  Then she thinks of his habit of sitting out here by himself.  "I guess you know that.  Is that why you're always out here?"

"One of the flaws of being gregarious and polite to everyone is that when you're sitting in a crowded place, there is always someone else that you need to say 'Hi' too.  I come out here to take a break from being that guy and contemplate the universe.  But,"  he shifts towards her slightly, "enough with the small talk.  Tell me why you're so interested in me?  I'm guessing you see me as some sort of hub for criminal activity, or perhaps a mastermind calling the shots of a vast high school conspiracy to overthrow the world."

Sylvia smiles and shakes her head.  "It's just wishful thinking.  Sometimes I wish there were something like that going on.  It'd explain all the random stuff that happens around here."  She scuffs her shoe at a pebble on the concrete beneath them, kicking it off into the grass.  "If there were a conspiracy, I'd be the mastermind.  Or at least a highly placed henchman.  You wouldn't believe the misery I could kick up."

Logan tips his head back and forth for a minute, "We're all masterminds and henchmen in one way or another.  you're not with the usual suspects, and last I heard Douglas was taking some time off from the table as well, so the good money is on the fact that you two had a fight, maybe even broke up.  I also take it that neither of you wants to go through a custody battle for your friends, so you've both taken the mature route and decided to avoid the group for a while.  Pretty mature.  Now, a few days ago a couple of your friends were checking out the science club, and the same day you struck up a conversation with me in the student store.  So, you want to seem like it's an innocent coincidence that you're out here today so as to not arouse my suspicions as to your motives for getting to know me.  Let's pretend for a moment that I don't care why, let's just say that I'm interested in where this is leading.  I'll make you a deal, between you and me there will be no secrets or lies.  Total honesty, but that means full disclosure.  I'd enjoy having a confidant, but if I find out you're not playing by the rules I'll end our relationship.  Deal?"

She's tempted to push him toward some softer mood, but he seems inclined to talk, regardless.  "No secrets or lies?  You make it sound more exciting than it is.  And, seriously, if someone was at the science club, I had nothing to do with it.  Who was it, and what makes you think it had something to do with you?"

"That is a question designed to avoid the subject.  Do we have a deal, or are we going to keep up this charade of pleasant freshman to senior talk?"

Sylvia fixes him with a steady gaze, a little peek at the woman she'll become.  "Deal."

"Excellent."  Logan says, turning back to look out onto the street.  "John Elliott and Samantha Jameson were at the science club.  This took place just after the bleacher collapse.  Elliott is smitten with Megan Howell, who had a colleauge hurt.  Nothing at the science club meeting interested them more then a robot, a very high tech robot.  Add to that Lisa Janush got expelled because of a broadcast of her sexual encounter, a broadcast that would require a high degree of technical knowledge.  This takes us back to Megan Howell, who I hear is very upset with the way in which this revalation was brought to light.  Add to that our conversation in close proximity to the Science Club adventure, and the widely accepted knowledge that I'm a king among geeks and you have a reason for me to be suspiscious.  It seems overly complicated perhaps, but I don't like coincidence.  As Nero Wolfe says, in a world that operates prodominatly at random, coincidence is to be expected.  It is, however, never to be trusted."

Sylvia listens to all of this with a cagey look on her face.  "You're in a fair number of clubs, aren't you?  You think that, just because they came to check out a club you're in, you must be their prime suspect?  That's not--"  She holds up her thumb and forefinger, pinching a wee bit of nothing.  "--just a little paranoid?  Or are you thinking you're the only one in the club who could engineer something like this?"

"Paranoia is an excessive anxiety or fear concerning one's own well-being which is considered irrational and excessive, perhaps to the point of being a psychosis.  Thinking that you wanting to become friendly with me on the heels of a number of bizarre coincidences would hardly qualify.  I supose if you weren't with the school paper, and several of your cohorts had not recently conducted interviews with girls who might have no reason to try out for the cheerleading squad, I'd be less sucpicious.  Then, that brings us back to Megan Howell.  A freshman who is now, through a strange set of circumstances, in line to be captain of the pep squad.  I find that interesting, don't you?"

"You think she's responsible for the attacks?"  Sylvia hadn't considered that, and it doesn't fit the physical evidence they've found.  But Megan does have a lot of time on her hands.  Her imagination begins to spin off into those TV scenarios in which firemen become arsonists because they like the thrill of heroism.

"She certainly stands to benefit from all the things that have happened.  I just find it strange."

"Do you happen to know who in this school is stranger than the rest?  Do you know who's got super powers and who hasn't?"

"Stranger than the rest?  Not a very nice turn of phrase.  As for people with powers, I haven't given if too much thought, since it hasn't  been that important to me."

"Not at all?  Then what is important to you?  Is there some ephemeral quality of villainy you're looking for?  I mean, are you thinking Megan's been bumping off cheerleaders because you see something evil about her, or do you see just the potential for evil?  The right opportunity and right motivation?"

"We're all capable of evil.  I'm interested in what motivates people to do the things they do, both good and evil.  As for Megan, she's a very organized and intelligent person, driven even.  I'm wondering if it's too far a stretch to think that she'd do things others might consider evil to further her own self interests."

"Would you?"

"I just said we're all capable of evil.  And, I've found it interesting that evil isn't always against the law.  It has degrees of subtlety to it that are far more delicate than people give it credit for.  So, yo answer your question, yes.  I'd certainly commit evil to further my own interests.  What about you?  Of course, to really answer honestly you should know what you consider evil I suppose."

"Selfishness, maybe.  Any act taken at the expense of others seems evil to those wronged.  It depends on your perspective, doesn't it?"  She gives him a steady appraisal.  "Let's take this from the hypothetical to the actual.  Have you committed evil?"

"I suppose so.  If you take the stance you presented where the person wronged would take certain actions as evil, then I suppose I have.  That old phrase keeps coming to mind.  One man's terrorist is another man's freedom fighter.  In a world with as many people as this one."  He stops, and seems to be lost for a moment in a thought, like a realization of somthing.  He turns his head slowly to look at you, and although his eyes are faciong you, they're somehwere else.  A few seconds later the focus returns, and he looks about for a monent, "Where was I?  Oh, right.  In a world with this many people, any action you could take for yourself has a good chance of harming someone else."

"Was that an epiphany I saw?  Share."  The entreaty is almost girlish.  "You said no secrets."

"Well, I just realized how much better off the world would be with a smaller population.  It would have to be something catastrophic, that killed millions, yet socially moving enough to cause the survivors to put aside their petty differences and pull together for survival.  Or, something that would cause an out pouring of compassion from all around the globe, and that couldn't be solved with military action."  He leans back and contemplates for a moment.  "It could be a life's work."  His voice is distant.

If Sylvia were a colder creature, she would cap him now and file it under DSAF.  But she's only fourteen, poor child, and too well brought up to consider such things.  "You don't hold any hope for the potential of humanity?  I mean, what if you, like, committed megacide and managed to kill, indiscriminately, the person who might otherwise have built the perfect solar cell or brought about world peace?  Megacide is short-sighted.  Emotional.  Illogical."

"Those are good points.  Unfortunately, forces of nature are not bound by the rational.  Those same people might die in a random event, and that's assuming some kind of predestiny.  That's dangerous ground to try to argue against megacide.  I guess a more ideal solution would be to wipe out greed.  Even that wouldn't be a perfect solution though.  Greed is a great motivator for so many, to remove that drive could very well doom us as a species just as easily as a bomb."

"You can wipe greed out--or at least redirect it toward a more benign ambition--by wiping out the forces that provoke it.  Deprivation.  Envy.  If greed is wanting more than you have, and being willing to commit evil--"  See definition, evil, supra.  "--to attain it, you can change the world by figuring out how to give people what they need.  More food, more water, more peace and freedom.  More bling.  Whatever."

"It's a sliding scale.  Only a few people ever seem happy with what they can get.  Maybe that's the ticket.  Make it so people can be happier more easily."

Logan takes a sip of water.  "So, what about you.  Have you committed an act that could be considered evil?"

She has to think about that.  "I've lied.  I've kept secrets.  I don't think the secret-keeping's evil, but some people do."  There's a tinge of resentment in her voice.

"We're secretive.  It's the nature of people, we like it.  But, there again is the issue.  So many interpretations of the rules.  So many rules.  Too many people trying to hold you to their standards, and then hippocritically ignoring them when they stop suiting them."

"You can only live up to your own standards," she recites, like it's dogma.  It's something Mitzi tells her.  "Do you feel an obligation to live up to other people's standards?  You seem like too much of an iconoclast to worry about that."

"When you have done something special, something very good.  It fills you with a feeling that is hard to overcome, hard to forget.  What, therefore, is the emotional result of doing something utterly evil?  I'm not worried about other people's standards or how they view me so much as I'm worried about my own.  I could easily settle for being successful, wealthy, or even powerful.  But are any of those tings worth being?"

"Isn't it too easy to be evil?  Isn't that why we execrate villainy and exalt heroism?"

"I tend to believe we exalt heroism because we look villainous or cowardly if we don't."  He looks over at her again, "You have suprising depth for a girl your age.  It's refreshing to chat with someone interested in the esoteric nature of things."

She shrugs a little.  "You don't think everyone thinks about these things?  I always figured other people think about them but have the sense not to talk about them."

"You give people our age too much credit.  Although, I could see how your crowd might be the exceptions that prove the rule.  You have an excellent group of friends."

"You approve of us, but you don't socialize with us?"  Then she thinks she'd better nip that in the bud in case he does decide to mosey over to the table.  Kel might kill him, and she'd like to keep Kel out of juvie.  "Who are you friends?  You're sort of generally admired and liked, but you sit by yourself at lunch."

"I stay away out of respect for Dave.  That, and I view myself as a consciencious objector.  Your group is one camp, and there are many others.  I try not to ally myself too deeply with any, but to observe them all and record, if only mentally, their victories and defeats.  Techniques and apparent outlook."

She wants to ask about Dave, but that's another question for another day, and perhaps another boy.  "What are the other camps?  Who have you been watching?"

"You've got a coven of witches.  They were mostly focused on self interest and wish fullfillment, until they crossed swords with your camp.  Then you have a band of technocrats who feel that the social order of the world, and for them that means little more then high school, is out of balance and needs some social engineering.  Then there are a handful of free agents.  Petty thieves, lovesick chemists, smitten lunatics, and someone who fancies himself a mastermind, but is really just a well handled pawn.  It's really turning out to be the most interesting year yet here at Oak Park High."

She's not sure she can trust a word he says, but she can't not ask.  "Can you give me names?  Who's the mastermind?"

"That wouldn't be fair.  I'd have to provide some useful information to one of the other factions, and that's just a slippery slope I'd rather not go down.  Besides, I said he thinks he's a mastermind, he's really just a pawn."

"A pawn of . . . yours?"

"No.  And I'm not sure who's pawn he is.  It's either very subtle or involves some kind of direct ability to manipulate the subject."  He turns his head to look at Sylvia, "Perhaps some kind of emotional or mind control."

Sylvia lifts a fine eyebrow and gives him a steely stare.  "Logan, may I ask a personal question?"  Her voice is low and even.  "Are you one of them?  One of the paranormals?"

"Not that I know of."  he says evenly.  "I've never been tested though, so I suppose I could be.  It might explain my abnormally high IQ."

"Paranormally high, you think?  Do you really comprehend that much?"  TJ was pretty smart, Sylvia remembers.  Megan's become a rapid consumer of fashion magazines.  Colin has his super memory.  She wants to know how smart Logan is--or at least how smart Logan thinks he is.