By Aladdin and Christopher Leeson

Posted Aug. 2, 2024
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Chapter 7

THE IMPOSTOR
 
The way you see people is the way you treat them,
And the way you treat them is what they become.

Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
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"Shouldn't we decide how to subdue someone as powerful as Amber Hunt when she drops in?" I asked Gabriel.

"I’ve been giving that a good deal of thought. Do you have any suggestions, Eden?"

"No. I was hoping that you did."

"I can assure you that the VIGOPS is now reviewing all options."

"Any civilization that leaves all its thinking and planning to machinery is heading for trouble. I hope your contraption can think faster than you seem able to do!"

"Before we commit ourselves to any definite plan," said the Timekeeper, "we need to take the measure of this world by treating with its inhabitants because living minds are always wildcards. Our sensors cannot probe people's thoughts and motivations – not unless they carry our nanobots, which give us access to their innermost thoughts."

"They're not my nanobots, they're yours! And don't think that I'm going to forgive you for cramming so much weird techno junk into my body!"

“I think you will be grateful to have that ‘techno junk' backing you up once you step into this version of Los Angeles."

"You're sending me out into No Man's Land? This is not exactly the sort of resort vacation I would have picked from a brochure."

“It's an unlovely place, I grant, but to secure the intelligence we require, we need boots on the ground."

"Isn't it convenient that they have to be my boots​?"

"Yes, your boots, alas. But in all fairness, you've become used to walking into danger for over a millennium and a half."

"I'm also the one who's gotten killed hundreds of times because I've walked into danger. What exactly is the problem with this world? I know they've had an issue with a super volcano, but I'm betting there is more going than we know about."

“That remains to be seen.”

"Can't your VIGOPS tell you? It seems to be able to do just about everything else."

“It can do very much, but not everything.”

“So, I'm supposed to find the Time Gem. But first I'd like to know if it's operating independently, or is someone controlling it?"

"I believe it's being controlled, but the standard procedure for Infinity Gems to choose their own masters. The gem probably knows that Amber Hunt is coming here, and it is waiting for her arrival."

"Why?"

"Because this plan was fashioned by the Time and Reality Gems. They are the true enemies of Nemesis. They are involving Amber Hunt in this because she is the ultra powerful enough to stop Nemesis from destroying the Multiverse."

“I can't make sense of the timeline you're feeding me! I thought the Time Gem rebelled against Nemesis and then came here. You're making it sound like the battle hasn't occurred yet.

"There was a time gap between the nanosecond when Time Gem abandoned Nemesis and the nano-second when it is yet to help Amber Hunt break the Infinity Array. To realize how important that gap is requires one to understand how the Time Gem conceives of time's flow."

“I can't follow you, and I don't think I want to," I said.

“Don’t feel discouraged. You are a skilled mystery-solver, but your world does not understand multi-dimensional physics. But because this whole world exists in a field of attenuated time, we cannot properly manipulate time to our advantage here. That means we have to work with speed to capture Amber Hunt and find the Time Gem.”

“Thanks a lot for putting the whole burden on my shoulders!"

"I assure you, Eden, I'm already doing everything possible to lighten your load."

"I can only take your word for that!" I said while surveying the grim landscape outside the Time Capsule. "If I have to traipse into a rat's nest like that, I'd feel safer toting a heavy gauge machine gun."

"You are right to anticipate violence, but even in your short lifetime of fifteen centuries, you've learned that force alone does not solve every problem. Sometimes diplomacy yields better results than does a powerful arm. We have different specialties, and this city needs a warrior's attention."

"But you just said that we need diplomacy here. Which is it? A blitzkrieg or a charm offensive? The faith you put in my versatility is touching."

Although I was being sarcastic, I actually didn't want Gabriel exposing himself to danger. What could the soft little fellow do if faced with a hard physical attack? If something nasty happened to him, I could never get home again, not even if I were still alive. I can travel through cosmic portals to the Godwheel, or cross between the Moon and the Earth, but I can't cross time. Also, I depended on Gabriel's know-how to save the Multiverse. I didn't have a clue!"

"But what happens if I’m killed?” I asked. “Do you already have my replacement in mind?" I couldn't forget that he had put a time clone of the Eden Blake into my home to care for the kids if I never returned.

"I don't wish to risk your safety if I can avoid it. But this city presents us with a challenge and you have superior instincts when reacting to unpredictable situations. So please, move with speed to scout out this city. Make every second count and take good care of yourself!"

"If I have to step into the fiery furnace, I'll need a suit of armor. I'd better switch into my Mantra costume."

Gabriel seemed to sense my ambivalence about doing that. "Is that a problem?" he asked.

“Maybe yes, maybe no.”

I didn't care to explain. In fact, since he knew everything else about me, he probably knew what the problem was. In August, I clashed with Loki on the Godwheel and after our skirmish, my magical armor started acting screwy. However, it still works how it did before its morphing ability became unstable.

The magic armor could tailor itself to reflect the character of the specific person wearing it. That meant it looked different on different people. When my friend Pinnacle transferred my life essence – my soul as I call it – into the body of a cloned male, it left the soul of Eden Blake in command of her own body. Unfortunately, the disembodied spirit of my enemy, Necromantra, had been following us around and took that opportunity to enter Eden's body to possess it. Whenever I wore it, it looked like a metallic version of a Miss America swimsuit. But when Thanasi's rotten spirit took control of it, it started looking like a costume out of some super-heroine porn fick.

I got the armor back after a few days and everything was fine until my encounter with Loki. Its morphing powers went bonkers then, and it started taking a new shape every little while. And some of those shapes have been even less tasteful than Necromantra's outfit.

"All right," I said to Gabriel. "I'll change inside that little room you gave me since it has a mirror."

I went to my cabin and flashed into my Mystic Closet by mental command. My reflected outfit was something I'd never seen before. I didn't find it unsuitable for public viewing, though it differed from my regular attire in unimportant details. A person who saw me wearing it might even mistake me for Mantra. My only major gripe was that the cape was overly long and capes were always catching on things.

Dressed to the nines, I hastened to rejoin Gabriel in the control room. He had already settled the Time Capsule down to earth. I rechecked the viewing port and saw that we were parked inside a dim back alley. I was ready to set out, but when I looked around the control room I couldn't see an exit to the outdoors.

"Did the exit door disappear?" I asked.

“Morphing is an automatic function of the vehicle," he said. "Because unneeded doors create structural weaknesses in an emergency, the Time Capsule eliminates them.

"If you say so, but I couldn't stay sane living in a place that was continually changing shape."

A hatch materialized before my eyes, probably at the Timekeeper's mental command. I tried the latch, and it opened. With a small leap, I made my exit.

The little man called after me, "We'll stay in communication through our nano-technological link. I’ll do my best to intervene to help you…if something goes awry."

"Thanks," I said with little enthusiasm.

The ground crunched when my feet struck it. I was standing on a bed of volcanic ash. That didn't disconcert me much; I'd had to stride across ash beds before this. There are few situations I haven't dealt with over the last fifteen hundred years -- except for one thing. I've never successfully healed a broken heart.

I magically scanned the area, wary of hidden surprises. I sensed human lifeforms located nearby and directed my steps toward the strongest source of them.

The surrounding buildings were utterly lifeless. This version of L.A. was nothing but an almost empty shell of itself.

I saw some light at the end of the alleyway. This turned out to be crudely lit fires in metal drums, apparently the apocalyptic version of streetlights. On the horizon were towering buildings, with all their hundreds of windows unlit. I was trying not to imagine doubles of Gus and Evie existing in this awful place. I winced at the thought of Gus and Evie living in such a place. Of course, maybe they weren't living. Most of the world's population must have died because of the catastrophe.

But I couldn't let myself think about such things. I needed to hold steady. If I let personal feelings distract me, my mission could become a fiasco, and I didn't dare let that happen. The stakes were way, way too high.

I made my way toward the human life traces that I’d detected. They originated behind the piles of wreckage ahead. To avoid getting bushwhacked on the ground, I took to the air and wrapped myself in a protective force field.

From aloft, the city looked like an unfixable wreck. I spotted a squad of thuggish shapes beyond a ridge of piled junk. They didn't look like anyone I'd like to meet, but I had a job to perform. While slowly descending, I maintained my force field. I wasn't expecting to find anything down there except trouble.

My boots sank into a deep bed of volcanic dust. The light was poor, and the shadows were heavy. I glimpsed movement between the mounds of wreckage. "Hello," I called out. "I'm a visitor from another town. I've dropped in to visit the local boss."

A shaggy-haired hulk of a man stepped into view. "Stay where you are, impostor!" he shouted.

My brow furrowed. I’d never been called an impostor before. Why would he think I was an imposter? Was there a clone copy of Mantra in this city? If so, how did he know that I wasn't her? Did she have a stable costume that he was used to?  

"I don't like people pointing guns at me," I told the guy. "Who' s your commander?"

"Watch out; she may be an ultra," someone still hiding shouted. "If she's got half the power of the real Mantra, we'll need backup. I'll connect with His Majesty's master-at-arms."

I heard a walky-talky conversation and could only suppose that no cell service existed where were were. The survivors would be using whatever old tech they were lucky enough to unearth.

"If you guys don't like my looks, I can scram out of here," I suggested.

Just then, a telepathic communique came to me from Gabriel. "Eden, I'm pleased you are already in contact with the authorities."

"I don't have very high expectations about these 'authorities,'" I said. "Things probably won't get any better even if I meet with their boss. Petty dictators are hard people to deal with."

"No doubt you are well versed in handling such situations."

"I am, unfortunately."

The tough guys had been quiet for the last couple of minutes, so I called out: "Is everything okay, or do you gents want me to beat it?"

"Stay where you are or we'll open fire," yelled some out-of-sight person.

"I wouldn’t want that to happen," I replied.

Just then a man-mountain came stomping into view and I recognized him from my Aladdin data-processing job.

"Is your name Rubble?" I asked. "Are you in command around here, or do you report to someone else?"

Rubble, a bad ultra who liked to break things, gave me a scowl.

"Watch out; she may be an ultra," the hyper-cautious walky-talky man shouted again.

"Get His Majesty online!" Rubble barked.

Majesty? Their Fearless Leader must have had visions of grandeur! Well, why not talk to the pack's big dog? Going back and forth with these snapping puppies promised to get me nowhere.  

That's when everything went black.

#

I woke up with a pounding headache. Had I been hit? If so, what had hit me – and why hadn’t my force field kept me safe?

"She's already waking up," said a woman. "I should have hit her harder."

With my vision clearing, I made out a female wearing dusty, threadbare togs. She was someone else I recognized from Aladdin's files – a cut-and-dried villainess known as Neuronne. She'd been a member of TNTNT – an ultra-outlaw gang. The maid of mayhem had the power to let fly with mental whammies. I'd been lucky. By rep, she could scramble a person's thinking power for the long term.

I cussed myself! While I allowed the toughs to keep me busy, Neuronne had come out of nowhere using a psionic attack. I been supposing that these Dead End Kids had no brain power behind them.

It was time to let Gabriel know that I was in trouble, but my telepathic call was answered by silence. Now that I wanted a little company, I was on my own!

"Back off!” barked someone in the shadow of a refuse pile. “I’ll interrogate the imposter personally."

"Yes, sir, King Warstrike," replied Rubble.

Had I heard him say, King Warstrike? A tall, wide, body-builder shape dressed in red and blue spandex stepped into the yellow light of a garbage fire.

"B-Brandon?" I muttered.

"The spy has disrespected you, my liege," said someone in his entourage. “Should I strike her?"

"If she needs to be hit, I’ll do the hitting," Tark rumbled.

This was loopy. How had the billionaire I'd known from back home become a bogus king running a mostly dead city? This clown surely did look like Brandon Tark, though. Had he been friends with Mantra? I hoped so.

Otherwise, the odds of me living through the next few minutes were about nil.

TO BE CONTINUED IN CHAPTER 8