The Law of Averages

"Tick tock, Daniel. You have five minutes to prepare. Think. What is it that you should be doing?" Mercury's voice brought Dan back to the present.

What should he be doing? He was clueless, overwhelmed, in deep over his head. He very nearly asked for help. The words were on the tip of his tongue, ready to be spoken. Stubborn pride was what stopped him. Not a particularly valuable emotion, but it was all that he had available at the moment. Mercury would probably help Dan if he asked, but it would feel like a loss, a failure. Dan wanted, needed, to think for himself. If he gave in without even trying...

Unacceptable.

So, here he was, in the aftermath of a terrorist attack. Here he was, surrounded by the dead and dying, standing beside brave volunteers, weathering heat that rivaled the hottest of deserts, within a city he was wholly unfamiliar with. What could he accomplish in five minutes?

Dan looked down at the map clutched loosely in his hands. Learning the area might be a good place to start.

An act of will took him to the nearest high ground, a small parking garage across from the hospital tent. He opened his eyes, and did his best not to notice the ash crunching beneath his feet. Dan unfolded the map and carefully examined it.

The blast zone had been separated into a series of square grids, each individually labeled. Supply stations were spaced out among the area, their placement optimized for ease of access. More information was scattered about the map as well. Terrain warnings, where footing or buildings might be unstable. Temperature warnings, as the ambient heat increased steadily as one moved further into the zone. There were even locations marked for emergency transport, where ATVs had been stashed with keys in the ignition.

It had been roughly an hour since the initial blast. Less than half of that, since SPEAR had left the area, and rescue efforts had begun in truth. The map was astonishingly detailed. Dan wasn't sure if the sheer efficiency should please him, or worry him.

Most likely some measure of both.

But that could be dealt with later. Dan planned to memorize as much of the city as he could in the next few minutes. He didn't need a particularly clear picture to teleport. His power seemed to defy all convention in its ability to accurately put him somewhere. He had managed to appear in front of the Pearson Hotel within an hour of acquiring his power, despite only being familiar with its dimensional alternate. That said, he would need a more accurate mental destination than 'grid marker A-1'.

The grid labels read like a book, moving left to right and top to bottom on the map, with the whole thing centered on the small office building that acted as ground zero. The medical tents were located in the southwest quadrant, at the very border of the affected area. If Dan teleported north, and paid attention to landmarks, then he should be able to hit every supply point on his map within a few minutes.

If only he knew which direction was north. The sun was hidden beneath a thick layer of smoke, and it was around midday besides. Dan frowned at his map, turning it about in an attempt to match the drawing to reality. There was a road running past the medical tents, though its path was barely discernible beneath the rubble. Maybe if he squinted really hard—

"Oh for heaven's sake! Check your pocket Daniel," Marcus interrupted with irritation.

Dan complied, quickly patting himself down. He found a suspicious lump in his front left pocket.

"This was not there before," he remarked, pulling out an army compass.

"I put it there. Watching you fumble about any longer would be physically painful. You'll need to purchase one for yourself in the real world., at least until you can learn directions like a normal person."

Dan wanted to protest that most people could not be dropped into an unfamiliar area and immediately know which way was north, but the argument stalled before it left his mouth. Arguing with the doctor was an exercise in futility at the best of times, to say nothing of when he was only a disembodied voice.

More importantly, Dan had work to do.

He consulted the compass, glanced briefly at his map, and got to it.

"Resupply request at grid marker D-eighteen."

Dan reached down to his radio and quickly spoke, "This is Bravo-one-seven, request acknowledged. I'm on my way."

A moment of concentration brought him outside the hospital tents, to the pile of supply kits that nurse Stephanie had pointed out. Dan squatted down, braced himself, and lifted the forty pound plastic crate filled with medical equipment. He closed his eyes and pictured himself on a distant street, crate in hand.

The surrounding temperature spiked upwards and Dan winced reflexively. The borders of the blast zone had noticeably cooled over the past half hour, thanks to the frantic efforts of Atlanta's firefighters, but the deeper areas were still oppressively hot.

The rescue teams were steadily working their way inward, but Dan had been needed most near the outer edge of the effected area. The boundary of the blast was the best place to find survivors. It was the coolest, the least devastated, and the most accessible area, and was therefore where medical supplies were in the highest demand. Despite the gentler temperatures, Dan was thoroughly drenched in sweat and more than a little tired. He was honestly amazed at how much the constant heat sapped at his energy, and not entirely convinced that the simulation hadn't been rigged to behave in this way.

Fucking Marcus.

Still, Dan kept at it. He stood a little over a block inside of the zone, holding on to his big box of miscellaneous medicine. Ahead of him was an unmanned ATV with a cargo carrier hitched to the front. A large wooden sign hung above it reading Suppliesin large bold print accompanied by a rather large arrow pointing downwards. Dan placed his burden down beneath the sign and glanced around.

He could see other volunteers in the distance. They weren't far, just a few buildings down, but it was clear that they were not wasting time waiting around. Whoever had taken the last of the medical supplies had simply called in a refill and moved on. That, at least, Dan understood. Volunteers couldn't afford to stick around and chat; there was no time for that. Their pace already slow by necessity, given the surroundings.

The effected streets were mostly filled with shops and small offices; smaller businesses whose main appeal came from large ostentatious window displays. Meaning glass. Lots of glass. Enough that the resupply point had been placed in the middle of the street, where nobody would accidentally impale themselves. The sidewalks were positively riddled with violently pointy shards. Even the supply sign itself hung from a fallen stoplight in the middle of the road.

Most of the storefronts had collapsed from the initial shockwave. The entrances were pulverized, and volunteers were forced to slowly dig their way inside. Dan could see makeshift tunnels leading in and out of the buildings closest to him. The holes were shoddily formed and hand dug, with large grooves visible where a strong grip had pried apart concrete. Many of them had deep furrows on the bottom, where a person had been dragged out. A few of them had fresh bloodstains lining the inside. It took Dan a while to look away from those.

As ridiculous as it might sound, Dan was caught completely off-guard by how fucking exhausting it was to simply take in his surroundings. He stood in the aftermath of a man-made disaster. These streets had been filled with people not an hour earlier. He could see— he could see where bodies had fallen, had died, had been burnt to a crisp and then moved by unfortunate volunteers. He could see the ashen outlines on the walls of nearby buildings, where fire had scoured away the life of people unable to find cover in time.

Dan had been at this for barely half an hour and he felt like he'd run a marathon. He hadn't even seen an actual corpse yet, just the wounded and... outlines. He hadn't yet faced anything truly difficult; just some moderate discomfort, no worse than one might find in a poorly monitored sauna. Dan hadn't really done anything yet, so why was he so damn tired already?

He watched his fellow volunteers dig through a small mountain of shattered concrete. Simulation or not, they moved with the kind of dedication that Dan had always found difficult to summon. Real or not, they persevered with the kind of will that Dan had never truly possessed.

Could he really keep up with them? Could he face this horrible facet of reality without flinching away? Could he bear the weight?

"Bravo-one-seven, we need an emergency delivery at grid B-four. Can you assist?" Dan's radio barked out an urgent request. This was different than the basic resupply that he had done before. Someone was in danger right now and needed specific medicine.

Dan hesitated, clicking on his radio but remaining silent. He glanced around at the street once more, at the bloody outlines and broken buildings. He looked further past, to the volunteers working tirelessly. He watched them shift a piece of concrete, and lift a crying woman out of the rubble.

How long could he do this?

"This is Bravo-one-seven. How can I help?"

Only one way to find out.