"Clark Kent, Daily Planet," the man said. He extended his hand out to Doug in
a typical, friendly manner. Doug took his hand and shook it. "Are you Douglas
Greene?" he asked.
Doug gave a slight nod. He knew the man from somewhere, but couldn't put his
finger on it. It might have been the glasses, maybe he was wearing contacts the
last tome Doug saw him. Doug reached up and pulled the data-slash-welding
goggles from his eyes.
"I was here a couple of months back," Clark explained, "You were giving a talk
on the differences in Kryptonian technology and the B-13 technology. It was very
informative."
Doug nodded, to himself as much to Clark. That must have been where he knew him.
That had been one of MAESTRO's best meetings ever, so many people turned up,
including Lex Luthor.
"So, Mister Kent," Doug finally spoke, "what can I do for you?" Clark smiled
again, reaching into his coat pocket, and pulled out small notepad. Paper. Doug
raised an eyebrow. Not many people around MAESTRO used paper and pencils for
notes. It was quite novel.
"I'm doing an article for the Planet," he explained, "about some of the
high-tech criminals around Metropolis--"
"Like supervillains?" Doug asked, raising his eyebrows.
"Not exactly,” Clark answered sheepishly. "There's been a rash of crimes lately
-- robberies, muggings, vandalism -- and the signature of the criminals is
always high-end technology. Some use force fields. Others have anti-gravity
boots. That kind of thing."
Doug wrinkled his nose. "And you think that MAESTRO is supplying them?" Clark
was quickly moving toward Doug's unfriendly side. "MAESTRO is a user group,
Mister Kent," he explained. "People drift by and use our workshop, but we
certainly don't enable criminals. If that's what you're saying, you can just--"
"I'm sorry," Clark apologized, "maybe I wasn't clear." He dropped his arms to
his side, pad in one hand, and pencil in the other. "Some citizens of Metropolis
are worried that high technology means more criminals. They're pushing local
officials to restrict access and even ban some technologies."
Doug had heard rumblings on a few newsgroups about such a ban. He didn't pay
much attention, though. "What I'd like to do," Clark continued, "is to write an
article about the benefits something like MAESTRO can offer." Doug's eyes perked
up. "Certainly people have a right to be afraid, but the benefits of an educated
populace far outweigh the dangers of a few bad apples."
"Oh, I see," Doug answered. "Sure, sure. I'll be happy to-- Just, whatever you
need. Can I offer you a seat or anything, or we could go upstairs."
"If it's all the same to you," Clark replied, "I believe the best way to do this
might be a tour of the MAESTRO work area. Tell me what you're doing, and let me
convey all the benefits."
"Cool," Doug smiled. "Well," he said, sliding off his workbench, "let me show
you the big thing we've been working on." He walked over to a large, gray
obelisk sitting in the corner of the work area. "This is our very own Mother
Box," he said proudly.
"Isn't that what Superman uses to create Bang Tubes?" Clark asked, jotting
notes.
"Boom Tubes," Doug corrected him, "but, yes, it is. However, Mother Boxes are so
much more than that. An actual Mother Box, from Apokalips, is a supercomputer
you could put in your pocket. We theorize that it's some kind of quantum
computer, that actually uses the basic elements of the universe to do its
processing."
"You said, 'actual Mother Box,'" Clark noted. "What did you mean? How is this
different?"
"Well, this is a very primitive system compared to the real things," Doug
lamented. "This is a basic quantum computer we patched together from K.O.R.D.,
Inc. experiments that were junked when Innovative Concepts bought it out. The
hardware isn't anything to sniff at, but the really exciting part is the
software."
"Oh?"
"We think Ted Kord used his connections with S.T.A.R. Labs to get a copy of the
Mother Box operating system. His system, what we developed this from, was what
he used to pick apart the Mother Box code. It's no where near powerful enough to
run the whole thing, but it's good enough for dissecting."
"But you call it your Mother Box?" Clark asked.
"Right, well," Doug answered, "the MAESTRO crew has beefed up Kord's original
box with their own works. Pragmatician made a lot of suggestions from his B-13
research, and Software Pirate was able to pull out enough of the excess
functions that we got the basic kernel working. It's not going to open any Boom
Tubes, but this little box is probably one of the fastest computers on the
planet."
"May we go back just for a second? You said 'Pragmatician' and 'Software
Pirate,'" Clark asked, "Who are they?"
Doug nodded. "We all use net handles around here most of the time. Pragmatician,
Software Pirate, Miss Calculator, Utilitarian -- that's me, by the way."
"Utilitarian?"
"Yup," Doug answered. "Until I get their okay, I'd rather not use my friends'
real names," Doug explained. "It's not that we do anything illegal here, but I'd
feel like crap if Miss Calculator woke up and found The Riddler outside her
house because he heard she was working on a program to catalogue every known
riddle and puzzle."
"Kind of like superheroes," Clark answered.
Doug shrugged. "I wouldn't go that far," he answered back. "It just seems the
responsible thing to do. We come here to hang out and have fun; I don't want
that to change because you're trying to convince people that tech restrictions
are bad. No offense."
"None taken," Clark answered. He pointed across the work area, at a pair of
large, clear cylinders. "Are those what I think they are?"
Doug smiled and jogged over to the two tubes. "They sure are," he answered, "MAESTRO's
own homemade teleportation tubes." He patted the side of one tube. "Our Mother
Box may not open any Boom Tubes, but she's got enough processing power to handle
a pair of these tubes."
Clark frowned. "Isn't it illegal to operate teleportation tubes?"
Doug shook his head. If he registered Clark displeasure, he was working
uncharacteristically hard to ignore it. "There's a commercial ban, from the
nineties, but these are strictly for private use. We've built a small
teleportation network around the world. We've got a pair here, a pair at our
sister group, GASTRO -- the Gotham Area Science & Technology Research
Organization -- a pair in Hub City, and a single tube in Tokyo."
"All controlled by your Mother Box?" Clark asked.
"No, no, no," Doug chuckled. "Mother Box just controls ours. Each group has
their own control unit. In a pinch," Doug said carefully, "we could distribute
the work load, but that's not really safe. Any data lag between sites in that
instance could be quite fatal."
"How do you run the tubes?" Clark asked. "According to Einstein's Law of General
Relativity, your power bill must be expensive."
"Ha!" Doug chortled. "Can this be off the record?" he asked. "This may be the
one," he paused to think of the right word, "less than legal thing we do around
here."
Clark nodded. "You have my word."
Doug walk around behind the tubes, gesturing for Clark to follow. Once behind
the tubes, he carefully pulled a cover plate from a box between the tubes.
"Cosmic Energy," was all he said. Inside the box, were pieces that resembled
Star Man's famous Cosmic Rod.
"Ted Knight patented all of his research," Doug explained, "and while we don't
make any money from using these schematics, the Knight Foundation, or the JSA,
could probably force a cease and desist on us if they found us using his patents
without permission." Doug closed the box back up before continuing. "What we're
doing is in the spirit of Mister Knight's later work, but sometimes spirits and
letters don't meet up."
Clark nodded. "Well, Mister Greene," he said, "I have taken up enough of your
time today. Thank you for the interview." Clark extended his hand again, and the
two shook once more.
"When should I tell the others to look for the article?" Doug asked. He was
already thinking ahead, planning where to hang a framed clipping of the article.
"I'll have to get it past my editor," Clark explained, "so no promises. I'll
give you a call before it hits print. How does that sound?"
Doug nodded. "You know where I live," he answered.
Clark smiled. "That I do."
---
"Well?" a gravely voice asked.
Superman walked into the Watchtower's main meeting room and took his seat at the
Justice League's round table. Batman, Green Lantern, Wonder Woman, and Aquaman
were already sitting down. The Martian Manhunter was just taking his seat.
"Did you learn anything," Wonder Woman asked.
Superman steeped his fingers and nodded slowly. "There's nothing overtly illegal
going on there," he told them. "However, if they ever become a problem, I
believe Wayne Enterprises might be interested in a few of their dissection
projects." Batman nodded. "Maybe give Jack Knight a phone call, he might be
interested in a few things."
Aquaman stroked his beard before talking, "Nothing requiring a more direct
approach?" He almost sounded hopeful.
Superman shook his head. "Not just yet. Most people wouldn't understand what
they're doing there," he said, "the few who did--"
"Would be enough to make those afraid of them," Batman added.
"At which point," Wonder Woman added, "our direct approach would be welcomed, if
not invited."
"Exactly," Superman agreed.
"Then it's settled," Martian Manhunter said, "now, onto other matters."