The Law of Averages

Dan gazed down at Neptune with awe. Even now, after weeks had passed, he still felt tremendously privileged to witness such a unique sight. It was a balm to his soul. It gave him perspective to realize that the planet would always be there, brilliant and beautiful. It had existed for long before him, and would continue to exist long after he was gone. He could look upon it and know with certainty that his problems meant nothing to the universe at large. He could stare into the vast abyss of space, into that sea of stars, and know that nothing he ever did would echo out past his tiny little section of the universe.

That was somehow enormously comforting to a man who feared his own mediocrity.

Dan watched for a few more minutes, basking in the peace that the view brought him. The space station, devoid of life though it might be, was slowly becoming a home to him. It was large, far too large, and Dan found himself teleporting from one end to the other more often than not. The rooms numbered in the dozens, most used as storage or filled with scientific doodads that Dan was not qualified to mess with.

Mercury was a bit of a hoarder. It hadn't been immediately obvious to Dan simply because he had never met one before. His ignorance hadn't lasted very long. Access to what amounted to an instant delivery service had unleashed the doctor's inhibitions. Dan's job was well-paying, easy, and mostly effortless, but good lord was it often trivial.

Marcus Mercury was a man of intensity. When his focus narrowed on a point, it was utterly unwavering. And yet, he still managed to post a list of assorted crap for Dan to buy each day. Things that he absolutely did not need. Cartons of soft drinks stored away in dark rooms in case the doctor's long lost sweet tooth someday made a return. Instant noodle packages, thousands of them, for that one insane future where such things became a valuable form of currency.

Often times Dan would be sent out to buy equipment that Marcus already had in spades. Extra microscopes, extra glass vials, SEVEN EXTRA MRI MACHINES. Still, these frivolous purchases could be forgiven in light of the man's apparently unlimited wealth. The problem was storage. It had quickly become obvious to Dan why the good doctor needed such a large space station, as the old man kept fucking everything, and not in the fun way either.

At some point during his second week in this dimension, Dan had stumbled upon a room filled with old newspapers while exploring the station. Not a room filled with boxes of old newspapers, a room filled with old newspapers. They had been stacked into precarious towers eight feet tall. Dan had been buried underneath an ocean of moldy paper almost immediately upon opening the door to the room. These weren't valuable articles of history that had been so carefully preserved. No, it appeared that Marcus had simply kept every newspaper that he'd ever handled, starting from the late 1920's, and then brought them with him into space.

Mercury's lab equipment was not spared from his hoarding habits. There existed entire laboratories filled with old, worn down equipment, held together with duct tape and a prayer. The mad scientist couldn't seem to decide between using top-of-the-line instruments, or his old-but-familiar antiques. The result of this waffling was a slow but steady build up of partially-broken somewhat-repaired science apparatuses, as the doctor futilely attempted to satisfy both urges.

Upon further reflection, Mercury was a massive hoarder. It was his habit, his lifestyle, his default response to everything. He hoarded lab equipment and food. Information and technology. Theories and Research. He hoarded secrets, his own and others. It was why Dan trusted the man with his own secrets. Mercury would never willingly volunteer information to another person or organization, not when he could hoard it for himself. This tendency also extended to his allies, unfortunately. The doctor had been incredibly cagey about the details of Dan's new world, but it was time for the old man to spill.

Dan vanished from the window sill and appeared at the entrance of Mercury's lab. Marcus was exceptionally good at deflecting questions. Dan was glad that he'd taken the time to ponder the scientist's more infuriating habits beforehand. It was only after building up a good head of steam that he dared to confront the man. Dan's stubborn anger should bulldoze through any deflections that the doctor might have. Interrupting whatever experiment Mercury happened to be running was just an excellent bonus. Dan was not above being petty.

The door hissed open and Dan stepped inside the lab. It was, as always, a bit of a mess. Piles of scratch paper littered the marble surfaces of Mercury's many tables. A chalkboard on wheels sat in the center of the room, covered in equations. A dark blue liquid pooled on the floor beneath it. Mercury sat in a nearby corner, peering into a microscope while quietly speaking into an old-fashioned tape recorder. Dan slowly made his way through the clutter, careful not to touch anything. Marcus often toyed with chemicals, and while the old man seemed largely immune to his own messes, Dan did not enjoy stepping in nitric acid.

He stopped in front of the doctor, ignoring the man's muttering. Dan cleared his throat forcefully—

"Ahem."

—only to be ignored by the wizened scientist.

He tried again.

"Ahem."

No reaction. Dan quickly recognized futility when he saw it. WIth deliberate slowness, Dan reached down to the doctor's tape recorder, and clicked it off.

Mercury exploded into action. His bony hand latched onto Daniel's wrist and dragged the younger man forward. Dan yelped, but lacked the leverage to fight the movement. The world tilted on its axis and something hard collided with his back. When Dan's senses returned, he found himself belly up on the doctor's table, with a pair of large, wild eyes staring down at him.

Dan smiled gingerly, his anger having fled in terror. "Hi doc."

Mercury blinked several times, tension draining out his body like a leaking pipe. He frowned at Daniel's surroundings. The doctor's impromptu Judo throw had scattered papers in every direction.

"Oh," the old man stated flatly, "it's just you."

"Yup," Dan wheezed.

"Well get off my table, you're making a mess." Marcus gave Dan a shove, and he flopped onto the ground.

Dan felt like crying. He was the victim here, you decrepit fossil!

"Not my fault," he protested quietly from his place on the floor. This was okay, this was fine. Dan could just regroup down here while he waited for his anger to come back.

Anger?

Where are you anger?

Don't be frightened by the frail old man!

"What is it that you want, Daniel?" Mercury asked impatiently.

Dan puzzled over the question. What did he want?

A flash of memory: fire and screaming, a choppper spinning through the air, Abby's face, worried and withdrawn.

Ah. There you are, Anger.

Dan sat up, plastering a grim expression over his face.

"We need to talk," he told the doctor firrmly.

"I'm busy," came the immediate reply. Marcus bustled past Dan, meticulously gathering the scattered notes.

Dan latched onto the old man's arm as he passed. Not a great idea, in retrospect, but no Judo throw was forthcoming.

Riding high on a surge of unusual bravery, Dan stated, "We need to talk now."

The wizened scientist scowled down at him and shook his arm free. Dan seized the moment to awkwardly scramble to his feet. He cleared his throat once more, and met Mercury's eyes.

"It really is important," Dan insisted once more.

Mercury's scowl faded into an irritated frown. "Fine."

The acceptance caught Dan completely off-guard. He flailed about, briefly, before settling on a topic.

"Why didn't you mention America's villain problem?" Dan asked.

Marcus cocked his head. "I wasn't aware that it had one."

Dan goggled at the old man. "You weren't aware that every once in a while, a mutate will go crazy and kill a bunch of people?"

"Oh. That." Mercury blinked. "Well that's hardly what I'd call a problem."

Dan quietly reflected on how often he wanted to strangle his employer.

"It sure seems like a problem to me," Dan replied slowly. "We weren't quite as blasé about domestic terrorism back home."

"Terrorism?" Mercury scoffed incredulously. "Please. Don't ascribe motive where there is none. There might be an underlying agenda for some attacks, but more often than not, it's just old-fashioned human cruelty."

Dan pursed his lips.

"Don't give me that look," Mercury snapped. "I'm sure you had your fair share of crazies back on your parallel."

"Our crazies couldn't blow up a chunk of a city at will," Dan corrected.

The doctor shrugged shamelessly. "Ours can. Some of them, at least."

"And everyone is just okay with that? That their lives are up to chance? That any random psycho might walk into a store for a basic upgrade, and leave with enough power to level a building? Why aren't people rioting in the fucking streets?" Dan demanded helplessly, almost hyperventilating at the end. The topic had been bustling about his brain for hours, slowly feeding his incredulity.

"Don't get me wrong, not everyone is happy with the situation. I'm sure a politician will bandy about some ideas for change every now and then to score easy points," Mercury acknowledged briefly, then shrugged. "It's all just theatre in the end. No one with any real power wants change.

"Besides, there's not much anyone can do about it at this point," the doctor pointed out. "Are you going to be the one to tell people that they no longer have access to superpowers? Will you tell a mega-corporation that its sole product is no longer legal? No. The process might be flawed, but it's certainly more stable than the chaos that we had before. Be grateful that powers are so regulated now."

"You should have mentioned this earlier," Dan insisted angrily.

"I advised you to read a history book," Mercury stated flatly.

"This feels like a current fucking event to me!" Dan bellowed.

His anger crashed against Marcus's calm demeanor and failed utterly. The scientist looked baffled, if anything, by Dan's reaction.

"A current event?" the old man asked.

"Atlanta was hit today. Some crazy asshole blew up four city blocks," Dan informed him.

Mercury blinked. "I see. I did not know that."

"Of course not," Dan sighed wearily.

"It's been a while since I've left the lab," the doctor said defensively.

Dan ran a hand slowly down his face. "What about Lexington? Did you know about that?"

Mercury's head bobbed up and down. "Of course. The power presented itself like a plague. It caught my eye."

Dan groaned.

"It was really quite fascinating," Marcus continued, growing more animated. "The villainess spread her power among the homeless by working at various soup kitchens. Anyone who touched the infected, usually by giving the poor fools money, became infected themselves. It was quite contagious."

Morbid curiosity drove Dan to ask, "What did her power do?"

"It put people into a coma." Mercury replied with a shrug. "Not immediately, mind you. The process took several days, depending on the victim's constitution. It was caught very early, though. A cure was produced before it could spread too far."

"That's not too bad, I guess," Dan admitted. Maybe things weren't quite as bad as he'd assumed.

"Oh no, it could have been a disaster," Mercury corrected. "If another day or two had passed, the entire city would have been infected. Any longer, and it would have spread to the state, then the country. People wouldn't have been able to create the cure fast enough. It was pure luck that someone noticed so early."

Well that was just plain worse than Dan had thought, in every possible way.

He gulped uncomfortably.

"And this is normal, is it?"

The ancient scientist rolled his eyes. "Of course not. The governments of the world do a fairly good job of keeping the lid on the madness, but people are people. If the potential exists to destroy the world, some selfish moron will stumble upon it and use it. It's inevitable."

"I don't believe that," Dan replied tersely.

"I don't care," Marcus cheerfully informed him.

Dan frowned. This conversation was not going in the direction that he wanted it to. An abrupt subject change was in order.

"I'm going to apply for crisis training, as a volunteer." Dan announced.

The doctor stared at him for several seconds.

"That is a terrible idea."

"I don't care," Dan cheerfully informed him.