Wonder Guy (9 page)

Stevens made a brushing-off motion. “The same people who are buying from me will probably hire them right out of grad school. Think about it, I go down, you go down.”

Greg stood frozen. Too late to avoid hearing way more than he wanted to hear. Way too late to sneak away and return openly, pretending everything was normal. He couldn’t ignore this. His own research might be at risk, his own grant application, and those of his friends. Morrissey was right about one thing. If someone published the stolen research first, it would set a student’s career back, possibly by years.

He and the other graduate Teaching Assistants had research projects continuing through summer session. His project consisted of preliminary simulations testing integration of laser technology with computer processing, and would form the basis for his grant proposal.

Even after Eric’s larcenous behavior earlier, Greg wouldn’t want him losing his work, let alone anyone he liked better losing theirs. While Morrissey had always seemed like a nice person, he’d have to be more than nice to throw his own career to the winds for the sake of saving the research of a few grad students.

Even now, he’d fallen silent in the face of Stevens’ cold-eyed smirk.

“I see we understand each other.” Professor Stevens turned away.

Greg would have to stop Stevens if Professor Morrissey wouldn’t. But how? What evidence did Morrissey have of Stevens’ scheme? Who was Steven’s customer? And how the heck could Greg even begin to find out?

Following Stevens around waiting for a clue was out of the question. It might be hours, or days, before the man did anything revealing. Maybe he’d better confront Morrissey for some answers. Except, he’d hate to embarrass the man by letting on how he’d overheard the conversation with Stevens. There must be another approach. Time to get visible again. He’d overheard enough should-be-private conversations to last him a lifetime.

He left the office area, found a deserted stretch of hallway and spoke aloud, “See ya.”

Ah. His hands and feet appeared again exactly where they should be. He’d never been so glad to see the familiar evidence of his own presence in the world. Good solid feet in their worn running shoes, good strong hands with their scattering of light brown hairs, knobby knuckles, and cleanly trimmed nails. Perhaps foolishly happy, because he’d felt them all along, he clenched his fingers and flexed them open again a few times. He ran a hand through his hair, assuring himself all his parts were still attached.

He made his way down the hall to a back stairwell, ducked through the door to pause on the landing, listened to the hollow echo of the stories-tall space for a moment before calling softly, “Serafina? Ma’am?”

“Yes, dear?” A quizzical look on her face, she stood above him on the flight of stairs leading to the next floor.

“This invisibility thing isn’t working for me,” he told her, reminding himself exactly why. It made him feel like a sneak is what it did. He’d rather deal with people face-to-face. Avoiding collisions with people who didn’t see him made it too much work. Plus, for Gloria to see him as a hero and a man of mystery, she first had to see him.

“Say no more.” Serafina winked at him. “I understand perfectly. What would you prefer?”

Good question. Sneaking might be a good way to find some answers to the questions the situation with Stevens had raised, but he should be able to handle this with some simple human detective work. The superhero business called for something more. A superhero was supposed to step in where ordinary human abilities weren’t enough to save the day. A superhero had to be something out of the ordinary, and Greg had to admit he’d gotten a kick out of feeling capable of extraordinary things, like a singing in his blood. He could get used to this.

“Would it be too much to ask for the same powers as Superman? I mean, I know it’s a lot–nearly everything about him is super: his strength, his perceptions, his speed.”

“Not at all.” Serafina raised a forefinger as if it were an exclamation point. “What an excellent idea. Very versatile. I’m sure it will prove helpful in a great many situations.” She gave him a smile he might expect from a doting grandmother. “Just say ‘Super-ize Me’ to activate the power and ‘Back to Me’” to return to normal. I think you’ll like the costume. I noticed a lot of golden browns and greens in your apartment and used the same palette. Oh, I should mention, with the similar powers come similar limitations.”

Before he responded, which would have required closing his gaping mouth, she’d vanished.

He closed his mouth, glancing around to find the stairwell as deserted as when he’d first entered. What did she mean by limitations? He should watch out for kryptonite? Nothing like that around here.

* * * *

Eric and Will looked up at Greg when he returned, fully visible, to the lab. Eric stood leaning over the monitor at a station in the back of the room while Will hunched over the keyboard.

“Ah, there you are,” Eric drawled. “Saw your bike wheel and thought you must be around somewhere.”

“Just down in the office.” Greg paused at the front desk, looking hard at Eric. He seemed different. After witnessing his trick of stealing stuff from Greg’s drawer, he saw something rodent-like he’d never noticed before in Eric’s features.

Eric turned back to his computer, taking no further notice of Greg.

Did Greg even know this guy? Eric attended half the same classes as Greg since they were undergrads together. They’d hung out with the same crowd, grabbing lunches and doing late night study sessions, ditching it for gaming tournaments. Had they ever talked about anything other than classwork, computers or gaming? Greg opened his drawer, grabbed his book bag, and then set himself up to work at one of the stations near the front of the room, well away from Will and Eric.

He didn’t know much about Eric beyond his preference for games with a strong strategic element. Maybe he came from an underprivileged background or one where possessions were shared freely. Aggie had told him things about her commune upbringing he’d found hard to understand. Even so, taking without asking seemed an act of contempt.

Maybe Eric considered their friendship superficial and felt justified in taking things from Greg? That didn’t make it okay, but Greg couldn’t work himself up to be angry over it. The crime seemed too petty. Did superheroes bother with the truly petty criminals? It seemed beneath them.

Still, he didn’t make any more income as a TA than Eric did and was no better able to afford to buy disks or the other equipment he needed. His needs deserved as much respect as anyone else’s. Maybe a petty crime deserved a petty response.

Greg made a mental note to buy a mousetrap, then turned to concentrate on running another simulation. He managed two productive hours of work before he thought of getting some lunch.

* * * *

“What’s with the traffic?” Gloria and Jo headed to the bakery, walking from the side street where they’d finally found a spot to park. “I’ve never had this much trouble finding a parking spot on Hennepin Avenue.”

“Some kind of parade.” Jo, taller than Gloria, saw over the heads of the small crowd lining the main road.

“Let’s get closer.” Gloria led the way, finding gaps between the small clusters of people, some in office dress like themselves, some in slacks or jeans with shopping bags or small children in hand. They reached the street in time to see banners unfurling, accompanying a fanfare of trumpets.

“What’s all this?” she asked, distracted by tumblers tumbling by, jugglers juggling their way past, and a fire-eater producing a great spout of flame as he crossed in front of them.

“Hear ye, hear ye!” A herald clad in a purple and gold tabard over purple tights stepped out in front of the similarly garbed trumpeters. He unrolled a long parchment scroll, reading from it in tones of great importance. “His majesty, King George of the Renaissance Realm declares his intent to hold court on the shores of yon Lake Calhoun. Come join in the festivities and make merry sport with us.”

“Oh, fun.” Jo’s exclamation was half sigh. “I wish we had the time.”

Gelpe’s Bakery stood on the far shore of Hennepin Avenue with an entire parade flowing like a river between the curbs. Gloria resigned herself to being entertained–and late getting back to the office.

“Ooo. Belly dancers.” Jo gripped Gloria’s arm, pointing.

“Wow. How do they do that?” Gloria gawked at a woman who danced ahead of the others, her belt of golden coins flashing and jingling with the rapid swing of her hips, while, remarkably, she balanced a scimitar, pointy edge up, across her head of dark curls. “I’d be scared to even try–probably cut something off.”

The drummers passed so close conversation became impossible. Jo nodded in time with their beat.

Behind the dancers and drummers marched a column of men and women in elaborate costume. Gloria stood fascinated by the gowns and doublets, damask corsets, floppy hats, dashing cloaks and swords, slashed sleeves, puffed sleeves, velvets, brocades and satins. She’d love to dress up like a member of the royal court, keep company with the wilder characters. A wizard strode along in flowing robes. A fairy with glittering beaded bodice and wild, out-flung wings danced by. Scurrilous pirates brandished swords and men at arms bore spears held high, their pennants catching in the spring breeze.

The King and Queen followed on horseback, surrounded by armored knights. The Queen’s crown and underskirt of cloth of gold glittered in the sunshine. Gloria sighed over the ropes of (okay, probably fake) pearls, memorizing details of the elaborate sleeves and overskirt. Why didn’t people dress like this anymore?

She glanced down at her sensible business-casual ensemble. “Suddenly I feel like a peasant.”

“I know what you mean.” Jo laughed beside her, her spiky dark hair motionless in the breeze.

Taking up the rear, an elephant followed with ponderous steps and swaying trunk. Its keeper rode in a howdah on its back. A banner hung down its sides reading, ‘Free Elephant Rides at the Lake.’

“I wish we didn’t have to get back to the office.” Gloria pointed out the banner. “How fun would that be?”

“Maybe next time.” Jo shrugged.

“Maybe there won’t be a next time. I’ve never seen them do this before.” Wishing for something she couldn’t name, Gloria looked down the street to where the leaders of the parade had already turned a corner toward the lake.

“I have.” Jo’s green eyes gazed off at some point in her memory. “Every once in a while the Festival people put on a parade like this and do an afternoon’s show at the lake.” She turned back to Gloria. “It’s some kind of promotional thing.”

As they spoke, Gloria glimpsed some motion at the edge of the crowd. What?

A child–a little sandy-headed girl no more than three years old–pushed a baby stroller bigger than herself into the street, moving on eager feet toward the elephant. Where was the mother? A father? Gloria scanned the crowd, spotted a woman holding back a little boy who howled in protest, straining to follow the girl with the stroller. With her back to the street, the woman couldn’t see what the boy reached for. The drums and pipes and trumpets of the parade made it impossible to call out and bring her attention to the stray child.

Gloria darted into the street, heading to intercept the girl with the stroller before the tot reached the elephant. The animal was probably perfectly tame, used to being around children and crowds on a regular basis, but her heart went to her throat at the sight of the tiny girl rushing toward those massive feet. The girl had a head start on her, being further down the street in the direction the parade moved, but Gloria made good time. She’d nearly reached her quarry when out of the crowd, a red Frisbee flew straight at the pachyderm’s eye.

The beast reared back, lifting its trunk to block the flying object, trumpeting, throwing its surprised master from the howdah. She caught up with the little girl and pulled her into her arms as the elephant dropped back to the earth, the impact shaking the ground. The beast swung its massive body and trunk back and forth as if to ward off further attacks. A thin, wailing cry rose from the stroller. The elephant’s wild trunk passed within a hand’s breadth of Gloria’s head. Heart in throat, on watery limbs, she backed away, pulling the girl and stroller with her.

Chapter 6

When Greg’s thoughts finally turned to lunch, he set his simulation to run on auto and headed up the backstairs of the Computer Engineering building. The roof would be a good place to test his new powers. On the landing to the access door he paused long enough to say, “Super-ize me,” before stepping out onto the graveled surface of the roof into the sunshine and a crisp breeze.