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 .

REPLICATION
A Kid Sensation Novel

By

Kevin Hardman
Kid Sensation Series
Sensation: A Superhero Novel
Mutation (A Kid Sensation Novel)
Infiltration (A Kid Sensation Novel)
Revelation (A Kid Sensation Novel)
Coronation (A Kid Sensation Novel)
Replication (A Kid Sensation Novel)

Kid Sensation Companion Series

Amped
Mouse’s Tale (An Alpha League Supers Novel)

The Warden Series

Warden (Book 1: Wendigo Fever)
Warden (Book 2: Lure of the Lamia)
Warden (Book 3: Attack of the Aswang)

The Fringe Worlds

Terminus (Fringe Worlds #1)
Efferus (Fringe Worlds #2)

Boxed Sets
The Kid Sensation Series (Books 1–3)
The Warden Series (Books 1–3)
Worlds of Wonder

Short Stories
Extraction: A Kid Sensation Story
 If you purchased this book without a cover, you should be aware
that this book is stolen property. It was reported as “unsold and
destroyed” to the publisher, and neither the author nor the
publisher has received any payment for this “stripped book.”

This book is a work of fiction contrived by the author, and is not

meant to reflect any actual or specific person, place, action, incident
or event. Any resemblance to incidents, events, actions, locales or
persons, living or dead, factual or fictional, is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2019 by Kevin Hardman.
Cover Design by Isikol
Edited by Faith Williams, The Atwater Group
This book is published by I&H Recherche Publishing.
All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or
portions thereof in any form whatsoever. For information, address
I&H Recherche Publishing, P.O. Box 2727, Cypress, TX 77410.
ISBN: 978-1-937666-41-5
Printed in the U.S.A.
 ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
I would like to thank the following for their help with this book: GOD
first and foremost, who continues to bless my endeavors; my family;
and my readers, who have been very kind and generous with their
support.
Thank you for purchasing this book! If, after reading, you find that
you enjoyed it, please feel free to leave a review on the site from
which it was purchased.
Also, if you would like to be notified when I release new books,
please subscribe to my mailing list via the following link:
http://eepurl.com/C5a45
Finally, for those who may be interested, I have included my website,
blog, Facebook, and Twitter info:
Website: http://www.kevinhardmanauthor.com/
Blog: http://kevinhardman.blogspot.com/
Facebook: www.facebook.com/kevin.hardman.967
Twitter: @kevindhardman
 Table of Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Chapter 51
Chapter 52
Chapter 53
Chapter 54
Chapter 55
Chapter 56
Chapter 57
Chapter 58
Chapter 59
Chapter 60
Chapter 61
Chapter 62
Chapter 63
Chapter 64
Chapter 65
Chapter 66
Chapter 67
Chapter 68
Chapter 69
Chapter 70
Chapter 71
Chapter 72
Chapter 73
Chapter 74
Chapter 75
Chapter 76
Chapter 77
Chapter 78
Chapter 79
Chapter 80
Chapter 81
Chapter 82
Chapter 83
Chapter 84
Chapter 85
Chapter 86
Chapter 87
Chapter 88
Chapter 89
Chapter 90
Chapter 91
Chapter 92
Chapter 93
Chapter 94
Chapter 95
Chapter 96
Chapter 97
 Chapter 1
“Stay close,” Mouse muttered softly. “I’m gonna need you.”
I gave a terse nod in response but didn’t say anything.
We were currently downtown in the city, on the street. Mouse –
my mentor – was wearing a buttoned-up but loose-fitting beige
trench coat, under which he sported the well-known black-and-gold
uniform of the Alpha League, the world’s greatest superhero team.
Since we were attempting to be inconspicuous, I also wore my
uniform under ordinary daywear, which in my case consisted of
jeans, a long-sleeved T-shirt, and a light-weight jacket. Initially,
however, I had pressed the notion of wearing a trench coat as well,
but Mouse had nixed the idea.
“One guy in a trench coat is inconspicuous,” he’d said. “Two is a
couple of TV detectives, looking to bust a case wide open.”
“So why do you get to wear the cool outfit?” I’d asked.
“Because I can actually pull off the look,” he’d declared.
“Besides, don’t kids your age like looking scruffy and scraggly? Just
wear some sweats or ripped jeans, and you’ll be the epitome of
cool.”
And so we had come to be dressed in our current attire. From all
indications, our attempt to keep a low profile was working, as no one
seemed to be paying particular attention to us as we walked. More to
the point, as I reached out empathically, I didn’t sense any out-of-
the-ordinary emotional vibes coming from any of the people around
us.
After a few moments, we came to one of the city’s many subway
entrances. Mouse and I ducked inside, stepping onto an escalator
that appeared to descend a good hundred feet, at the very least.
Once at the bottom, we found ourselves in the midst of throngs of
people trying to get through the turnstiles and onto the subway
platform.
Welcome to rush hour, I thought, as bodies hemmed us in on all
sides.
 Tapping my shoulder to get my attention, Mouse suddenly tilted
his head to the side, indicating I should follow him. We then began
heading to one of the side walls, cutting a path through those around
us that was perpendicular to the flow of foot traffic, causing shouts of
frustration (and more than a few obscenities) to be voiced in our
wake.
A few seconds later, we found ourselves at the wall. Nearby was
a somewhat narrow gate which displayed an official “Metro
Employees Only” sign. Needless to say, this was an entrance
reserved for subway employees, a means of allowing them to quickly
access the subway platform in order to go about their official duties
rather than having to wait in line with the unwashed masses. And
next to the gate – just to make sure no subway passengers
temporarily forgot who they worked for – were a couple of transit
cops.
Mouse approached the two officers and flashed what appeared
to be a card made of plastic. One of the transit officers – a big fellow
who made a show of twirling his nightstick – glanced at the card and
simply nodded. Mouse then hustled through the gate, with me on his
heels.
At that juncture, a train was just pulling into the subway station.
There was a high-pitched squeal of brakes as it slowly came to a
halt; a moment later, a two-tone chime sounded, followed by the
subway doors opening, and a mass of people began filing out.
He didn’t say anything, but I sensed a slight twinge of frustration
coming from Mouse, and I understood why. We were on a tight
timetable, and although using the employee gate had allowed us to
sidestep the wait and crush of bodies going through the turnstiles,
we were still near the rear of a sizeable crowd. Even more, it was
evident that we probably wouldn’t make it onto this particular train,
which would really throw our schedule out of whack.
As the last of the exiting passengers stepped off the train, those
waiting to enter surged forward – a tidal wave of bodies that rushed
ahead, almost heedless of anything and anyone around it. If it wasn’t
clear before, it was pretty certain now that getting on this particular
train was out of the question. Unless we temporarily abandoned our
efforts to be low-key.
“Hang on,” I said to Mouse as I telescoped my vision in order to
get a good look at the interior of the last train car. Then I teleported
us, popping us into the subway car in question, but right in front of a
middle-aged woman in a dark pants suit.
She jumped a little, obviously startled by our sudden
appearance, then muttered, “I’m sorry. I didn’t even see you there.”
“No problem,” Mouse assured her, then turned to me and gave a
subtle nod of his head. I smiled slightly, taking this as
acknowledgment that – although we were trying to avoid drawing
attention to ourselves – using my powers had been the right
decision.
The car quickly filled up with passengers, and the press of
bodies forced Mouse and me back to the very rear of the train car. At
last, the chime sounded again, and the subway doors closed in the
face of numerous disappointed patrons who hadn’t been able to
squeeze in. A moment later, we began moving, and within seconds
we entered the tunnel, quickly picking up speed as the train moved
toward its next destination. Glancing through a window set in the
train’s rear door, I watched as light from the platform we’d just left
quickly receded into the distance.
I turned to Mouse, who – unlike me – was looking out the side
windows instead.
“Scrubber room…” I heard him mutter softly. “Signal room…
Communications…”
I followed his gaze, but already knew what he was doing: calling
out the names of specific areas in the subway tunnel as we passed
them.
Basically, the tunnel didn’t just consist of steel tracks laid down in
a passageway carved through the earth. There was a narrow, railed
walkway on both sides which – at discrete intervals – intersected
with the entrances to various areas that provided support functions.
Most subway commuters had almost no idea how much was
required in terms of manpower and equipment in order to keep the
trains running in a timely and efficient manner.
 “Heating and cooling should be next,” Mouse stated, bringing my
attention back to the task at hand. This was confirmed a few
seconds later when I caught a glimpse of “HVAC” written on a door
near the left-side walkway as we sped past.
“Okay, get ready…” Mouse droned. “Now!”
Telekinetically, I placed a firm grip on Mouse. At the same time, I
phased us – making the two of us physically insubstantial. Then I
floated about an inch into the air (lifting Mouse as well), at the same
time gently moving the two of us backward.
With our momentum now the opposite that of the subway car,
the result was that we phased through the rear door. A second later,
we were floating in the semi-darkness of the subway tunnel,
watching the train swiftly moving away from us.
Empathically, I stayed in tune with the passengers for a moment,
trying to make sure that our sudden disappearance hadn’t caused
any distress in those around us. Frankly speaking, I could have
saved myself the trouble; I detected no more than mild surprise at
our unorthodox departure. (Apparently, subway passengers adopt a
mind-your-own-business mantra, although in all honesty I couldn’t be
sure how many of them had actually been paying attention to us in
the first place.) This reaction actually served our current purpose, but
at the same time it left me slightly disheartened with respect to
human nature: two guys disappear from a moving subway train, and
no one’s concerned enough to raise an alarm?
“So far, so good,” Mouse muttered, bringing me back to myself.
I moved us over to the railed walkway to our left, then made us
substantial again and gently set us down. At the same time, I cycled
my vision through the light spectrum until I could see almost
normally. On his part, Mouse donned a pair of night vision goggles
that he’d obviously brought with him.
“Let’s go,” he said, heading towards a nearby set of double
doors. Unlike the previous areas we had passed (which had had the
names of the respective rooms written on the entryways), this one
was unlabeled.
Mouse tried the handle; unsurprisingly, it was locked. I phased
the door without being told, and we stepped inside. We found
ourselves on a landing at the top of a set of straight stairs that
descended for about thirty feet.
We hustled down to the bottom of the staircase, which opened
up into a square room roughly thirty-by-thirty feet in size. There was
some type of equipment pushed against a couple of the walls, but
none of it was familiar to me. Straight ahead of us was the entry to a
narrow corridor. Mouse pulled out his computer tablet (which he
always seemed to carry with him) and began walking towards the
passageway. I immediately fell into step beside him.
Several hallways seemed to branch off from the one in which we
found ourselves. Apparently using his tablet as a map, Mouse began
guiding us through a honeycombed network of rooms, corridors, and
even tunnels (with me occasionally using my phasing ability to get us
past locked doors, blocked entrances, and the like).
“What is this place?” I asked softly a few minutes later as we
walked through what appeared to be an abandoned subway line.
“Subterranean tunnel,” Mouse answered with a snarky grin. “I’d
have thought that was obvious.”
“Funny,” I replied sarcastically. “I meant why is it here, wise guy.
Any of it, in fact. I mean, we’ve passed through a dozen places since
we left the subway train that look like nobody’s visited regularly in
years.”
“Yeah, well, it might shock you to know that there are scores of
deserted underground sites throughout the city.”
“But again, why? It just seems weird to me to build out all these
spaces and then simply abandon them.”
“There are actually lots of reasons why people would simply
walk away,” Mouse declared as we left the subway line and entered
a connecting passageway. “Maybe a tunnel collapsed or became too
unstable to keep digging. Maybe they hit a pocket of gas or
somehow lacked the ability to get fresh air far enough underground.
In at least one instance, they upgraded the subway cars and then
found out they wouldn’t fit with the existing platforms. And in some
cases, they just ran out of funding for the project.”
I nodded in understanding. In the not-too-distant past, I had
actually visited a town that had been evacuated years ago because
of alleged exposure to some virulent biological agent. Thus, I could
accept that there were occasionally valid reasons for abandoning
places that had been built. Still, what I was currently seeing around
me seemed like an incredible waste of effort, and I stated as much.
This sparked a conversation between me and Mouse about the
relative merits of cutting’s one losses versus seeing a questionable
project through to the end.
“Regardless of how you feel about them representing the
squander of resources,” Mouse finally said, “you have to admit that
these underground spaces are a boon in terms of our task today.”
“Yeah,” I agreed. “Assuming we can get to the end of this rat
maze.”
“Sounds like someone’s losing faith in the mission,” Mouse
chided as we rounded a corner. “How about a bit of cheese for
encouragement?”
He pointed to the far end of the hallway we had just entered.
There were still no lights (at least none that were on), but – with my
vision set to the current band of the light spectrum – I didn’t need
them to see what Mouse was indicating: an elevator.
I smiled as we began heading toward it, as the presence of the
elevator was an indicator that we were still moving in the right
direction. Not that I had ever doubted Mouse or his ability to guide us
through the underground labyrinth of tunnels and passageways. He
was pretty much the smartest person on the planet and was rarely
ever wrong about anything. Still, when the strategy for this particular
mission was being planned, one of the drawbacks had been the lack
of complete maps for the underground sites. That being the case,
the path Mouse and I had taken to reach our current destination had
– to some extent – consisted of guesswork and extrapolation. In
short, it was nice to know we hadn’t taken a wrong turn somewhere
or gotten lost.
We stopped at the elevator doors, and Mouse began taking off
his trench coat. This hinted at two things: first, that we were close
enough to our final destination that the need to remain
inconspicuous didn’t matter. It also implied that Mouse didn’t want
excess clothing restricting his movements in any way.
 Unlike my mentor, I didn’t bother taking off my outer clothing. I
merely phased myself and my Alpha League uniform, and everything
else fell to the ground.
“We in a race?” Mouse asked accusingly, as if my method of
changing clothes was a crime.
I laughed out loud, then sobered immediately as the sound
echoed through the hallways around us.
My focus now back on the mission, I asked, “Do you think he
knows we’re here?”
“Dream Machine?” Mouse said quizzically as he tossed his
trench coat down. “If he doesn’t, he will soon enough, so get your
game face on.”
I nodded and then, assuming that Mouse was ready, gripped him
telekinetically again and phased us. I then moved us through the
doors (which looked as though they hadn’t opened in years) and into
the elevator shaft.
Several floors below us was the elevator itself, but judging from
the condition of the equipment in the shaft – rusted cables, exposed
wiring, dilapidated pulleys, etcetera – I doubted that it was still
functional (or would be safe to use even if it were). Like the elevator
doors, everything around us probably hadn’t seen use in a
generation and was covered with dust and cobwebs.
Slowly, I began lowering us down the shaft. As we descended, I
spent a few moments thinking about what lay ahead of us.
Despite having gone up against bad guys before, this was
officially my first mission, the first one where my presence was
actually sanctioned by the Alpha League. However, because of the
individual we were about to face off with – Dream Machine – putting
me (or someone like me) on the mission roster had almost been a
foregone conclusion.
Technically, Dream Machine wasn’t a person. He had started off
as an artificial intelligence – a set of complex computer programs
designed to help people with dementia, especially those having
problems perceiving reality, through direct interface with the human
brain.
 Initially, the project was considered a roaring success.
Somehow, however, the AI not only outgrew its original programming
but also became self-aware. Moreover, through its incipient work
with those suffering from dementia, it had somehow developed the
ability to manipulate human perception. In short, it could cause
people to see hallucinations, among other things. Taking on the
name Dream Machine (and a masculine persona), the AI had
decided that it could best fulfill its original purpose of helping people
by conquering humanity. Thus, since escaping several years ago
from the computer network where he was housed, Dream Machine
had made world domination his top priority.
All of this flitted through my mind as we got closer to the
elevator. Phasing through the roof, we found the interior of the
elevator just as pulverulent and cobwebbed as the shaft we’d just
left. Changing direction, I now moved us forward, taking us through
the rusted-shut elevator doors.
The first thing I noticed when we emerged was light. Previously,
we had been making our way through the subterranean tunnels and
hallways in almost complete darkness. Now, however, there was a
fair amount of illumination.
Glancing around, I saw that we were in a sizeable chamber that
seemed to extend about a hundred feet ahead of us, as well as rise
several stories in height. The light I had noticed apparently stemmed
from two sources: electric bulbs that seemed to have been placed
haphazardly throughout the area, and steel drums being used as
burn barrels.
Much to my surprise, there were people scattered throughout the
place – some old, some young, some alone, some with families. I
had no idea where they had come from or how they’d managed to
find their way this far underground, but one look at their threadbare
clothing, well-worn footwear, and the multitude of sleeping bags
made it clear to me that they were homeless.
Picking up a minor twinge of surprise from Mouse, I leaned
towards him and whispered, “They’re real.”
Mouse merely gave a solemn nod in response as he removed
his goggles. Like me, he had clearly not expected to find people
here, and my statement was an indication to him that these people
actually existed, as opposed to being illusions fabricated by Dream
Machine.
This was the real benefit of having me on this mission. In
essence, Dream Machine’s illusions only appeared within the visible
light spectrum. In other words, they only manifested within the range
of the spectrum that was visible to the human eye. Ergo, people with
normal vision were susceptible to the hallucinations he created, but
someone like me – with my vision currently outside the visible light
spectrum – couldn’t see them at all. That meant I could tell what was
real and what wasn’t. Moreover, my empathic abilities also served as
a differentiator, since illusions don’t have feelings.
At the moment, I was picking up the usual emotions that one
might expect from people dealing with homelessness: worry, fear,
dread, and so on. At the same time, however, I picked up on feelings
of comfort, hope, friendliness, and the like. Basically, on an overall
basis, it wasn’t much different than the sentiments I’d pick up from
any random group of people. Thus, convinced that we were in no
immediate danger, I placed Mouse and myself on the ground and
made us substantial again. By that time, however, our presence had
been noted.
Up to that point, there had been a multitude of conversations
going on, but they quickly ground to a halt as those assembled
became aware of strangers in their midst. Slowly, like the tide
inexorably crashing on the shore, a wave of silence seemed to wash
over those around us as all eyes turned in our direction.
I didn’t pick up on any indications of malice, but the sea of
staring eyes made me wary. Then, almost simultaneously (and so
closely in unison that it might have been choreographed), everyone
around us pointed to the far end of the chamber, where another set
of double doors was located. Quite plainly, they knew who we were
(or at least why we were there).
Taking our cue, Mouse and I began heading toward the doors.
As we walked, I couldn’t help but feel a slight bit of guilt as I noticed
those around us huddling close to the burn barrels for warmth.
Although we were on the verge of spring, it was still cold outside.
Assuming there was some kind of ventilation system down here –
and there had to be for these people to get air (not to mention
preventing the burn barrels from filling the place with smoke) – it was
probably cold air that was coming in. Thus, while not as wintry as
being on the streets, it was quite likely that it could get cold enough
down here to get uncomfortable.
For Mouse and me, the League uniforms that we wore were not
just well-insulated, but also loaded with so much technology that
getting a chill was the last thing we had to worry about. Needless to
say, we hadn’t done anything wrong, but I felt guilty all the same
about being warm and cozy.
In addition, I noticed that the space we were in wasn’t actually
designed to be the huge chamber I initially took it to be. Upon closer
inspection, I saw that Mouse and I were actually on the ground floor
of what had been a multi-story facility of some sort. (In retrospect, I
actually remembered floating past several floors as we had come
down the elevator shaft.) From all indications, some portion of the
structure had collapsed, leaving several rooms on multiple floors
open and visible, thereby creating the semblance of a large space.
Frankly speaking, it put me in mind of a wrecking ball that had
smashed into the side of a building, leaving much of the interior
exposed to the outside.
We were about a quarter of the way to the double doors when
everyone – again, in synchronized fashion – dropped their hands.
Presumably we knew which way to go at that juncture, so the
chamber’s occupants (at least those on the same floor as us) busied
themselves with hurriedly stepping out of our path, as if we had a
disease they might catch. They still didn’t speak, however; they
merely continued to watch us in stony silence.
We had almost reached the double doors when a young girl –
about eight years old or so – dropped a doll she was holding as she
stepped out of our path. I had just come abreast of her at the time,
so I bent down to retrieve her plaything at the same time that the girl
herself did. Our simultaneous action resulted in us almost bumping
heads, but our comic timing was slightly off. Thus, although we didn’t
inadvertently head butt each other, her face did wind up close to my
ear.
“Watch the shadows,” she hastily whispered, at the same time
taking her doll (which I had reached first) from my hand.
I stood up, frowning slightly over what I’d just heard and trying to
discern the meaning. I glanced at the girl, who had just been gripped
firmly by the arm, pulled back, and shushed by a woman who
presumably was her mother. Still pondering her words, I stepped
forward to join Mouse, who was already at the doors (which
appeared to be locked). My mentor looked at me expectantly.
Knowing what he wanted, I phased the doors and we stepped
through.
We now found ourselves in a spacious tunnel. The place was
modestly lit with a few incandescent lights, which provided enough
illumination that Mouse didn’t need his NVGs. A couple of darkened,
recessed spaces in the tunnel walls indicated the presence of
several corridors that presumably led to other areas.
“There,” Mouse said, pointing at what appeared to be a metal
post with some blinking lights that stood in the middle of the tunnel.
He ran towards it, with me right on his heels.
As we approached, I realized that the blinking lights were
actually diodes on a small black box about the size of my palm. It
was attached to the pole at a height of about four feet. The pole itself
was about nine feet tall and was not just in the middle of the tunnel,
but also centered between two railway tracks.
“This is it,” Mouse said, pulling a thin cable from a pouch at his
belt. “One of the computer hubs connected to Dream Machine.”
“That’s a computer?” I asked in surprise as Mouse used the
cable to connect his tablet to a port on the black box.
“Yeah,” Mouse assured me. “Why?”
I shrugged. “I guess when I think ‘computer,’ I envision things
like a keyboard and monitor.”
“Dream Machine is an AI. He doesn’t need that kind of interface
to interact with a computer program or software.”
“So why have lights down here? He obviously doesn’t need
those either.”
 “That’s for our benefit – so we can see whatever he sends at us.
Now get ready. Even with the distraction provided by the others, we
can’t expect to go undetected.”
I nodded in agreement. Mouse’s last statement alluded to the
fact that the two of us weren’t the only Alpha League contingent
currently engaging with Dream Machine. Somewhere well above us
and miles away, another team was making a direct assault on an
isolated warehouse that had been identified as the AI’s main base of
operations. With any luck, he’d be so preoccupied with the main
team knocking down his front door that he wouldn’t pay close
attention to us slipping in the back. In short, what Mouse and I were
doing could be generally construed as a sneak attack on Dream
Machine’s unprotected rear.
What we were hoping to do, of course, was put a stop to the AI’s
current machinations, which included uploading a malicious code to
an orbiting communications satellite. Simply put, in order to
manipulate what a person was seeing or hearing, Dream Machine
usually had to be in close proximity to the affected individual.
However, if he could take control of the satellite in question (which is
what the code was designed to do), it would give the AI a much
broader reach – global, in fact. In brief, he’d be able to influence the
perception of almost anyone, anywhere on the planet. And if
Mouse’s calculations were correct (which was usually the case), the
upload would be complete in about fifteen minutes.
Needless to say, the easiest way to stop Dream Machine would
have been to simply shut down the satellite. Unfortunately,
permission to do so hadn’t been forthcoming. Apparently the satellite
in question had certain military applications, and making it go dark –
even temporarily – would have compromised several sensitive
operations. (The requisite bureaucratic decision-makers had pretty
much dismissed the suggestion out of hand.) Thus, we had been
forced to employ our current stratagem.
I thought about all of this as Mouse went to work, typing on his
tablet. In addition to giving us access to Dream Machine’s systems,
hubs like the one Mouse had connected his tablet to were used by
the AI as an escape hatch – a means for him to make a quick
getaway to the internet when necessary. Thus, we were not only
hoping to use it to disrupt his current plans, but to also trap him by
shutting down his exit route.
Without warning, I heard a noise like the growl of a large
predator coming from somewhere nearby. Quickly, I spun around in a
circle, trying to pinpoint the source of the sound, but couldn’t see
anything. Moreover, I wasn’t picking up any emotional vibes from
anything other than Mouse.
The growl sounded again – closer, and in a way that hinted at
anger…or hunger.
“Polar bear,” Mouse announced in answer to my unasked
question.
“Where?” I asked, still looking around.
“Right in front of me,” Mouse stated, continuing to type without
missing a beat. “Just took a swipe at my head with a massive paw.”
“I don’t see anything.”
“Good,” Mouse declared. “That’s the entire reason you’re here.”
I didn’t respond, but his words reminded me of why I had been
included on this mission: my ability to see outside the visible light
spectrum, which meant that I would be unaffected by any
hallucinations that Dream Machine might employ. Being able to
separate fact from fantasy was absolutely critical at this juncture if
we were going to stop him.
Unfortunately, although I wasn’t visually vulnerable to Dream
Machine’s illusions, I was affected on an auditory level. In essence, I
could still hear them, even though they weren’t visible to me. Thus,
when I looked to where Mouse indicated the polar bear was located,
I didn’t see anything other than my mentor’s shadow cast against the
wall. With his fingers flying across the tablet as he typed, the image
on the wall gave the impression of a mad composer trying to
complete his magnus opus within the span of a few minutes.
After a few seconds, the sound of the growling polar bear melted
away. It was replaced almost immediately, however, by an ominous
creaking, followed by the sound of numerous heavy items
thunderously striking the ground.
“Cave in,” Mouse said by way of explanation.
 And so we continued for the next minute or two, with me hearing
an odd new sound every few seconds, and Mouse identifying it for
my benefit. It could almost have been a game of sorts, were the
situation not so serious, because Dream Machine obviously knew we
were here and was trying to run us off. But if this was the best the AI
could do, we probably didn’t have much to worry about.
Out of the blue, a deafening, animalistic roar sounded in front of
me, catching me off guard.
“What was that?” I practically demanded.
“A dragon, by the looks of it,” Mouse replied.
“A dragon?” I repeated, unable to hide my surprise.
“Yeah – a fire-breathing one, at that.”
Okay, this I have to see, I thought. I cycled my vision back to the
visible light spectrum, and sure enough – just as Mouse had said –
there was an enormous, fire-breathing dragon right in front of us. It
was winged and covered in gold-and-green scales, with a long,
supple tail that whipped back and forth. As I watched, the creature’s
nostrils flared and its diaphragm expanded; a moment later, its
mouth opened and a stream of fire shot out, bathing me and Mouse
in flames.
I had to give Dream Machine credit: his creation was beautiful
and incredibly life-like. Even knowing that it wasn’t real, I still half-
expected us to get burnt to a crisp. Thankfully, that didn’t happen,
and when the flames died down, the dragon was gone.
A moment later, however, I heard an odd clicking noise coming
from overhead. Looking up, I’m sure my eyes bulged as I saw a
bloated, man-sized spider descending towards us on a silky line of
webbing from its spinneret. Almost completely black and with
mandibles clacking together spasmodically, it reached for Mouse
with long, spindly legs. Unexpectedly, it lunged in an apparent
attempt to bite my mentor’s head off. It was all I could do not to shout
out a warning, but just before its fangs made contact, the spider
disappeared.
Mouse gave me a quick sideways glance, but didn’t say
anything. It was a sure bet that I’d given him some non-verbal cues
that I’d switched my vision to the visible spectrum. (Plus he was no
longer giving me a play-by-play overview of Dream Machine’s
illusions, which suggested he knew that I could see them myself.)
A light suddenly began shining at the far end of the tunnel
directly ahead of us. As I watched, it seemed to move closer towards
us, like someone with a flashlight walking in our direction – except
the light seemed to be held in a steady position. A moment later, a
noise like an air horn reverberated through the tunnel.
No, not an air horn, I thought. A subway horn!
As if in confirmation of this, the rails on either side of us began to
vibrate, and I heard the sound of a train car in motion – metal wheels
grinding on metal tracks. Dream Machine’s latest illusion was
headed right for us.
With the light shining in our faces, I wasn’t able to get a good
look at the AI’s latest fabrication, although I imagined it was a full-
length subway train. However, as it drew closer, the lights in the
tunnel caused the train’s shadow to form on the wall, and I was a
little disappointed to note that it was seemingly just a single subway
car.
Shadow!
With klaxons going off in my head, the word leaped to the
forefront of my brain – along with the dire warning of the little
homeless girl. Thoughts racing, I reflected back on the illusions I had
seen and suddenly realized that neither of them had cast shadows.
That meant…
I immediately – almost simultaneously – did three things: I
cycled my vision away from the visible spectrum; shouted a warning
to Mouse that consisted solely of the word “Real!”; and phased the
two of us.
The subway car – which was in no way an illusion – was almost
on us at that point. The fact that he had sent something real (and
capable of causing us grievous harm) was a sure indicator that
Dream Machine was no longer fooling around. He was intent on
stopping us by any means necessary.
Thankfully, I had phased us in time for the subway car to pass
through us harmlessly. Unfortunately, in my haste, I forgot to phase
the metal post with the computer hub attached (although I had
phased Mouse’s tablet). The train hit it at ramming speed, ripping the
post up from the ground and dragging it along with it down the
tracks. Mouse, who – to his credit – had never stopped working even
when I’d shouted that the train was real, merely turned and watched
as the post, now caught beneath the subway car’s wheels, spewed
forth a bright shower of sparks. A moment later, accompanied by the
squeal of grinding metal, the train derailed and crashed into the wall
of the tunnel with a sound like a bomb going off. The tunnel shook
for a moment, causing the lights to flicker briefly as dust came
cascading down from the ceiling.
A slight popping noise drew my attention to the floor, where I
noticed some exposed wiring from several cables that had snapped
when the post was dragged away. The popping noise sounded
again, in concert with a few sparks from the wiring.
“Please tell me that you stopped the upload,” I said as Mouse
and I stepped back from what was obviously several live wires and I
made the two of us solid again.
“Not enough time,” Mouse said solemnly.
I let out a sigh of disgust, furious with myself. I had failed
miserably. The entire reason for me being here was my ability to
differentiate reality from illusion, and I had allowed myself to get so
distracted that it affected the mission.
“So, that’s it,” I said, feeling wretched. “Dream Machine wins.”
“Not necessarily,” Mouse declared. “We just have to go to Plan
B.”
I frowned. “Huh?”
“We can’t stop the upload directly, but maybe we can do it
indirectly.”
“How?” I asked, nonplussed.
“By disrupting his power supply.”
“What do you mean?”
“When I was in his systems, I noticed that all of Dream
Machine’s operations depend on a single power supply, and it’s
close by.”
I thought about this for a second. “Wait a minute. You’re saying
he has an independent source of electricity that he uses to power
everything?”
“Yep. I had always assumed that he was siphoning it from the
city grid somehow, but apparently that’s not the case. He’s got some
independent means of generating power, and if we find it, we can still
stop him.”
That was all I needed to hear. A few seconds later, we were
dashing down one of the connecting corridors.
As before, Mouse dictated our course, using his tablet to guide
us through the maze of passageways. After about a minute,
however, he slowed his pace – then abruptly came to a halt.
“What’s the problem?” I asked.
“The power source should be just up ahead,” he said, pointing
towards the end of the hallway we now found ourselves in. “But
according to the readings I’m getting…it’s nuclear.”
I frowned. “Nuclear? As in ‘nuclear bomb’?”
“Exactly,” Mouse replied, then tapped a few keys on his tablet,
which then began making a light, staticky sound.
“What’s going on?” I asked, pointing at the tablet with my chin.
“Some kind of interference?”
Mouse shook his head. “No. I’ve modified the tablet to act as a
Geiger counter. It’s reading the level of radiation down here.”
I didn’t need to hear any more. The fact that the Geiger counter
was making any noise at all was an indication that we were currently
being exposed to radiation of some sort.
“Are we in danger?” I asked.
“Not at the moment,” Mouse answered. “Plus, our uniforms
provide us with some level of protection. As long as the level of
radioactivity doesn’t get much higher and we don’t experience
prolonged exposure, we should be fine.”
“Okay, but that means we need to find this power source fast.”
“Agreed.”
“Alright,” I said, coming to a decision. “Hang back for a second.”
Without waiting for Mouse to reply, I shifted into super speed and
went zipping down the hallway. My assumption was that, as a
speedster, I could swiftly check out the area and report back, while
encountering only a miniscule amount of radiation (if any at all) in the
process. That would hopefully keep my mentor out of danger, as well
as make up, to some extent, for my blunder with the subway train.
As I zoomed down the corridor, I didn’t see anything unusual
initially, but towards the end of the passageway (which terminated in
a dead end), I noticed that the walls on both sides gave way to what
appeared to be jail cells – two on each side – with bars at the front.
Thinking that one of them might contain Dream Machine’s power
generator, I peeked into each. All of them, however, were completely
barren except the last one on the left, which contained someone that
I took to be a homeless man from his appearance.
His hair looked like it hadn’t been combed in some time, and he
had a shaggy, unkempt beard. Lying on the floor, he appeared to be
asleep, and my read of his emotional state gave the same indication.
All around him were empty liquor bottles, and from the way he
smelled, it didn’t take a genius to figure out that he probably took his
breakfast, lunch, and dinner in liquid form.
Leaving him there, I quickly ran back to Mouse.
“There’s nothing down there,” I said. “No machines, equipment,
or anything that struck me as capable of generating power.”
“So it’s completely empty?”
“Well, there is a guy down there,” I admitted. “Some wino. I was
going to teleport him to a shelter or something, but thought you might
want to check him first to see if he’s been exposed to radiation.”
“Show me,” Mouse practically demanded. Without hesitating, I
teleported us down the hallway.
We popped up directly in front of the homeless man’s cell. The
Geiger counter on Mouse’s tablet immediately became louder,
producing infinitely more static.
“Where is he?” Mouse asked, not realizing that he was actually
facing the wrong way.
“Over here,” I said, tapping him on the shoulder to get him to
turn around. The fellow in the cell, now awake, was in the process of
putting one of the empty liquor bottles up to his mouth. “As I said, it’s
just some wino.”
Mouse took one look at the guy and drew in a harsh breath.
“That’s not just some wino – it’s Atomic Bum!”
 “What?!” I exclaimed, eyes wide in surprise.
Atomic Bum was a homeless man discovered in the middle of a
huge, smoking, radioactive crater a few years back, following an
explosion in a heavily forested area. In addition to Atomic Bum
himself, investigators also discovered evidence that someone had
been snatching homeless people off the street and experimenting on
them – often with gruesome, horrifying results. After a few attempts
at questioning him, it became obvious to investigators that the man
they had found was mentally addled, but he provided enough
information to make it clear that he had been one of those abducted.
It also became evident that he was a super, with a power set that
seemed to mimic nuclear reactions. However, it was unknown
whether this ability was something he possessed prior to being
kidnapped or the result of an experiment after he was taken. One
thing was sure, though: whoever had taken him ultimately found out
that they had bitten off more than they could chew.
Because he didn’t seem to have a name or permanent address
– and grew agitated when he went too long without alcohol – the
media nicknamed him Atomic Bum. He was generally considered to
be harmless, but when upset or flustered, his powers would activate.
Looking at him in the cell now, as he set down the first bottle and
tried to drink from another, a lot of things suddenly became clear.
First and foremost was that this was Dream Machine’s power supply
– a living, nuclear power plant.
“What do we do now?” I asked as Atomic Bum tried to drink from
yet a third empty bottle.
“Give me a sec,” Mouse said, as he appeared to examine the
exterior of the cell.
The sound of glass shattering drew my attention back to Atomic
Bum. Apparently frustrated at not having anything alcoholic
available, he had thrown the last empty bottle forcefully against the
back wall of the cell.
“Where’s my bottle?!” he shouted angrily. All of a sudden, his
eyes focused on me. “You! What have you done with it?”
“Huh?” I said.
 “My bottle!” the homeless man screamed, spewing spittle as he
came towards me. “I know you have it!”
Without warning, his eyes began to take on a mild red glow. At
the same time, the Geiger counter began making even more noise
and the temperature seemed to rise.
“Look,” I said, trying to speak in a calm voice. “I don’t have your
bottle, but if you just stay calm, we can get you something to drink.”
“Give me my bottle!” Atomic Bum screamed, making it clear that
my words hadn’t registered with him. Now at the front of the cell, he
reached menacingly through the bars, causing me to take an
involuntary step back.
His eyes were now a deep crimson, and the Geiger counter was
going completely crazy. This guy was obviously starting to give off a
ton of radiation, as well as oppressive heat. He was still rattling on
about his bottle, and it was clear that no amount of talk was going to
calm him down.
“Mouse!” I shouted. “Based on what the Geiger counter’s saying,
we need to get out of here!”
“Have you forgotten about Dream Machine?” Mouse asked. “If
this is his power source, we can’t just leave him.”
“Then shut down whatever he’s using to siphon power off this
nut!”
“There’s not enough time.”
“Fine,” I said. “Then I’ll teleport this guy some place where he
can go nuclear without killing anyone.”
“No!” Mouse exclaimed. “If he unleashes some type of fission
reaction, you don’t know how big the explosion will be.”
As usual, Mouse was right; I had no idea how much damage this
guy could truly cause. Moreover, even without considering how big
the blast radius would be, there would still be the other effects of a
nuclear explosion to contend with – everything from radiation
poisoning to flash blindness to nuclear fallout.
No, I couldn’t teleport him without knowing more about the likely
outcome.
“Phase the bars,” Mouse suddenly ordered, catching me by
surprise.
 “What?” I said, not quite sure I’d heard him correctly.
“Phase the cell bars,” he said. “Make them insubstantial.”
I phased the bars as directed. Atomic Bum, who was leaning
against them at the time, still reaching for me, fell forward off-
balance and toppled to the ground.
Mouse stepped forward, and I simply watched, unsure of what
he would do. Maybe try to talk some sense into Atomic Bum? Or
promise him a drink if he’d just calm down? Or –
My thoughts were cut off as Mouse, planting a foot just as
Atomic Bum came to his hands and knees, kicked the fellow solidly
in the jaw. Atomic Bum flipped over onto his back, unconscious.
Or that, I said to myself.
 Chapter 2
Mouse’s kick sent Atomic Bum into dreamless unconsciousness,
at which point he seemingly stopped generating radiation and heat.
My mentor then spent a minute poking around the cell Atomic Bum
had been in until he found what appeared to be a hidden panel.
Behind it was a fair amount of sophisticated tech and equipment,
which was apparently designed to siphon off radiation and –
ultimately – use it to create electrical power.
“There,” Mouse said with finality, after fiddling with the equipment
behind the wall panel for a moment. “Dream Machine’s power supply
is no more.”
“And the upload?” I asked, almost timidly.
“I’m not connected to Dream Machine’s network anymore,”
Mouse admitted, looking at his tablet. “But I’m using a remote link to
monitor the satellite’s systems, and all indications are that the upload
aborted.”
I allowed myself a small grin, thankful that my earlier faux pas
with the train had not had lasting repercussions.
“I think we’re done here,” Mouse added. “Why don’t you head on
back to HQ and get checked out? We can do the formal debrief
tomorrow morning.”
It was a kind gesture on his part. He knew that – aside from the
mission – I had a lot on my mind.
Basically, I had just returned several weeks earlier from a
sojourn to the distant planet Caeles – the homeworld of my maternal
grandmother, an alien princess known as Indigo. My grandmother
herself had been called home decades ago, leaving my grandfather
to raise their infant daughter alone.
My own visit to Caeles had been fraught with peril, and I’d
almost been killed on more than one occasion. Needless to say, I
was happy to have made it back to Earth in one piece. Even better,
Queen Dornoccia – ruler of the Caelesian Empire – had allowed my
grandmother to return home with me. (Indigo had essentially been
under house arrest on her homeworld.) Unfortunately, the queen had
also required me to come home with something else that was
entirely unexpected: a fiancée.
To someone on the outside looking in, it probably appeared that I
had won the lottery. My betrothed was a Caelesian princess named
Isteria (although she preferred that I call her “Myshtal,” which was
one of her many middle names). She was a great-great-
granddaughter – and favorite – of Queen Dornoccia. Because of the
way Caelesian politics worked, Myshtal was not necessarily in line to
inherit the throne, but she was heir to a considerable fortune. On top
of all that, she was breathtakingly beautiful, with a sharp wit and
lively personality that made everyone she met practically fall in love
with her – everyone except my girlfriend, that is.
Frankly speaking, however, the arrangement with Myshtal was
more of a business deal than anything else. On Caeles, it’s not
uncommon to use betrothals to cement commercial partnerships or
political alliances. In my case, it had been the cost of getting Queen
Dornoccia’s support for my Caelesian family, which was under
political attack, among other things. In exchange, I was to bring
Myshtal home with me and look after her. (Myshtal had some
budding super powers, and the queen had felt those abilities would
be better developed on Earth, where such talents were more
common.) Of course, I would have made Myshtal’s well-being a
priority even without the formality of an engagement, but apparently
that’s the Caelesian way of doing things, and when in Rome…
As might be expected, I wasn’t wild about the situation – for
quite a number of reasons. First of all, I was only sixteen, so
marriage (even to someone who was quite fetching, and a princess)
was one of the furthest things from my mind. Next, even though she
was an adolescent by Caelesian standards, Myshtal was
considerably older than me. (Caelesians live about five times longer
than people on Earth.) Finally, as previously noted, I already had a
girlfriend. The only good news was the fact that – once again – this
was really nothing more than a business arrangement. That being
the case, there was no guarantee that it would end in matrimony.
(And even if it did, I had been assured that the date for any nuptials
would be well in the future.)
 All in all, I had a lot on my plate at the moment in terms of my
personal life. Thus, the mission to deal with Dream Machine had
been a welcome distraction. Now that it was seemingly over,
however, my mind naturally began to turn once again to all the
issues I was grappling with. Still, dealing with the AI and its
machinations had made me acutely aware of how negligible my
problems were: they were still bothersome, but compared to threats
like world domination, they didn’t carry a lot of weight.
My mind back on our present situation, I contemplated Mouse’s
suggestion that I take off only for a moment before discarding it. My
mentor was a bright guy and I was confident that he could handle
himself, but – from what I’d been able to glean – he had no
discernable super powers. Thus, I wasn’t about to leave him alone in
what was obviously the lair of a supervillain (albeit one we had
allegedly stopped), and I stated as much.
“Suit yourself,” Mouse said with a shrug. “But support is en
route, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
He was proved right about a minute later when Buzz, the
speedster of the Alpha League, zipped down the corridor and halted
in front of us.
“You took your time,” Mouse said, admonishing him.
“Hey, man, you’re lucky I got here this fast,” Buzz droned as he
acknowledged my presence with a nod. “Do you know how many
underground tunnels and hallways I had to search to find you? The
homing beacon doesn’t come with a map. It told me where you were,
but not how to get here.”
Buzz was, of course, speaking of the communicator that all
Alpha League members carry with them as part of their standard
equipment. It addition to allowing two-way communication, the
device served a dual function by also operating as a tracker/homing
beacon. Apparently Mouse had reached out to his colleague without
me noticing. (Or, more likely, he had previously instructed Buzz to
join us after the mission was over.)
Confident now that Mouse had adequate backup, I teleported
back to Alpha League Headquarters.
 Chapter 3
I popped up in the infirmary at League HQ. Because of the
Dream Machine mission, an emergency response team was already
on standby in case someone came back in dire need of medical
attention. I didn’t think possible radiation exposure was anything they
were expecting, but you wouldn’t have known it from the way they
reacted.
In essence, the medical team operated like a well-oiled machine,
switching immediately from idle into high gear from the moment I
appeared – testing, probing, and evaluating my condition at a pace
that was almost dizzying (even for a speedster like me). Within
twenty minutes, I was pronounced fit and released. That might have
seemed hasty by some standards, but the Alpha League – in
keeping with their prominence as the gold standard for superhero
teams – had the best doctors, the best equipment, and the best
facilities available. If their medical team gave me a clean bill of
health, then that meant I was good to go.
From the infirmary, I teleported to my room. Like all members of
the League’s teen affiliate, I had my own quarters at HQ – a comfy,
one-bedroom unit with a cozy living room, a kitchenette, and a small
breakfast area. (In truth, the League actually had several floors
designated as on-site residences, so every League member had
their own individual living quarters.) Historically, however, the teen
apartments were seldom used; they were really only utilized the few
times each year that teen supers were required to stay at HQ for
extended training – usually during summer. That said, we could
actually use them any time we liked.
The first order of business when I arrived was to take a shower.
Having just come back from a mission that took place almost wholly
underground (and involving a lot of dusty places), I felt a little grimy.
However, it was nothing that soap and water couldn’t fix.
Fifteen minutes later, after a leisurely – but not overlong –
shower, I felt ready to go out. Now dressed in a pair of khakis and a
navy-blue sweater, I teleported to the teen lounge area of Alpha
League Headquarters.
The lounge was a break room for members of the League’s teen
affiliate that housed, among other things, dart boards, video game
consoles, and a billiards table. Needless to say, it was a favorite
haunt of many teen supers, including me and my friends.
When I popped up, there were a fair number of people in the
lounge, but not so many that you would call it crowded. But it was
only early evening, and on a Friday at that – still lots of time for the
place to fill up (which it probably would).
My sudden appearance caused a few heads to turn in my
direction, but didn’t really startle anyone. A couple of teens greeted
me with a wave and I returned the gesture, all the while scanning the
room for…
There!
Near the rear wall, striding towards a table at the back of the
lounge, was my best friend, Smokescreen. I began walking in his
direction, giving perfunctory greetings to several people that I knew
as I moved through the room. By the time I reached him, Smokey (as
he liked to be called) was already sitting at the table, which was
square-shaped, with a chair on all four sides. I took a seat across
from him.
“Hey,” he said as I sat down. “That was fast.”
“Huh?” I muttered, not sure what he was talking about. The
mission, maybe?
“Never mind – I forgot who I was talking to,” he stated with a
self-deprecating shake of his head. “Anyway, here you go.”
He pushed something across the table towards me – a bottle of
soda. Now that my attention was drawn in that direction, I noticed
that he had one as well.
“Good timing,” I acknowledged, before taking a quick drink of
soda.
Smokey gave me an odd look and for a moment, I sensed
confusion coming from him. However, it vanished a moment later as
he leaned in.
 “So,” he said in a hushed, conspiratorial tone, “can you tell me
about the mission now?”
“Uh, sure,” I answered. His phrasing struck me as a little odd,
but I quickly forgot about it as I telepathically reached out and gave
him a quick overview of events.
Although technically a telepath, I consider my abilities in that
arena to be limited. While I can broadcast my own thoughts, I can
only pick up the surface thoughts of others and anything they
willingly want to share. True mindreading – being able to burrow into
someone’s brain and ferret out information – is not really one of my
gifts.
That said, telepathic communication occurs much faster than
actual speech, so it only took a few seconds to bring Smokey up to
speed. Under normal circumstances, I probably wouldn’t have been
discussing the mission at all. It was classified, and I hadn’t been
debriefed yet. However, due to our playing a significant role in saving
the planet a few times in the past, several of us teen supers –
including myself, Smokey, and my girlfriend, Electra – had been
given special clearances. Thus I wasn’t violating any rules by talking
to him about the Dream Machine mission. (To be honest, he was
probably the only teen in the lounge who even knew about it.)
“Well,” Smokey said when I concluded, “sounds like you learned
a lesson.”
I nodded. “Yeah – stay out of subway tunnels.”
Smokey grinned. “I was thinking more along the lines of keeping
your eye on the ball.”
“That, too,” I said noncommittally. “But trust me, I’ll stay totally
focused from now on.”
Smokey gave me a skeptical look. “Totally focused, eh?”
“Completely, from this point forward. Nothing will get by me.”
“Then in that case, you already know you’ve got inbound at
eleven o’clock.”
“What?” I mumbled, frowning.
With a sly grin, Smokey subtly tilted his head towards the main
area of the lounge. Looking in the direction indicated, I didn’t notice
anything initially, but then drew in a sharp breath as I realized what
Smokey was trying to draw my attention to – or rather, who.
Vestibule.
 Chapter 4
Vestibule was one of those people for whom life had seemingly
pulled out all the stops. Born into a family of blue bloods, she’d
known almost nothing but wealth and privilege her entire life.
Moreover, she’d been blessed with classical beauty and an eye-
popping figure, which she had parlayed into a successful modeling
career. Last but not least, she had the rare ability of teleportation – a
talent that had earned her a spot with the teen affiliate of the A-List
Supers, who operated on the West Coast and were typically
considered to rank second only to the Alpha League in terms of
power and prestige.
Upon seeing her, I let out a slight groan of irritation that caused
Smokey’s grin to widen. Vestibule’s presence was not something I
wanted to deal with at the moment, but it should have been
expected.
In the not-too-distant past, we had needed Vestibule’s help to
save the planet. Her assistance, however, had come with a price
attached: a date with me. But as luck would have it, I had been
summoned to my grandmother’s homeworld before fulfilling that
commitment. During my absence, however, Vestibule had apparently
come by the lounge regularly looking for me. (Only a handful of
people were aware of the fact that I was off-planet at the time, and
she was not in the know.) Thus, the fact that she was here now
shouldn’t have been a surprise.
For a brief moment, I contemplated teleporting away (anywhere
else would have been preferable), but then she caught sight of us
and the opportunity was lost. A moment later, she was headed in our
direction.
She was dressed in a form-fitting, white-and-gray mini dress that
was just long enough to reach an area that could – if one were
feeling generous – be classified as her thigh. She also wore
matching boots that came up just above the knee, and an unusual
shade of metallic lipstick that would have looked odd on anyone else
but suited her perfectly.
 She strutted towards our table like she was on the runway,
effortlessly drawing the attention of almost everyone present. (All the
males, anyway.) She certainly knew how to work a room. Seeing her
approach, Smokey began to rise from his seat, preparing to excuse
himself on some pretext. I told him to stay put; he stared at me for a
second, then sat back down.
When she reached our table, she took a seat without waiting for
an invitation, then graced me with a smile that probably made most
guys euphoric.
“Face-to-face at last,” she said, eyes twinkling as she leaned
back and crossed her legs. “You’re a hard guy to catch up with, Kid
Sensation – even for a teleporter like me.”
“I typically go by ‘Jim,’” I stated flatly. “And for the record, we’ve
been face-to-face before, but you blew me off.”
“That was on a previous occasion when I didn’t know who you
were,” she clarified, referencing the fact that the face most of the
world identified with Kid Sensation – a label the media had pinned on
me – was not my true countenance. Thus, when she’d seen my
“real” face, she hadn’t recognized me.
I shrugged. “One of the hazards of cavorting with shapeshifters, I
suppose. You never know when we’re around or when you’re dealing
with us.”
“Fair enough,” she admitted. “But I think you’ll agree that the last
time we met – and I knew what you actually looked like – I didn’t do
anything close to blowing you off.”
I frowned, thinking back. What Vestibule was referring to was the
fact that she had kissed me – purportedly for luck – during the prior
crisis when she had helped save the world. It was an incident I would
have been happy to forget about, had it not happened in front of my
girlfriend, Smokey, and a score of other people.
“Cat got your tongue?” Vestibule asked, bringing me out of my
reverie. “Of course, if you don’t recall what happened last time, I’d be
happy to refresh your memory.”
She raised an eyebrow suggestively. At the same time, Smokey
began to cough like something was stuck in his throat – an act that
reminded both Vestibule and me of his presence. (He had been
completely silent up to that point, such that I’d almost forgotten he
was there.) Fortunately, he stopped after a moment, making it clear
that he wasn’t likely to choke to death.
“Sorry,” he rasped. “I think that last sip of soda went down the
wrong way.”
“Anyway,” Vestibule said, crossing her arms as she turned back
to me. “You owe me a date.”
“An outing,” I corrected, using my girlfriend Electra’s terminology.
Vestibule waved her hand dismissively. “Whatever. You still have
an obligation here.”
“Which I plan to make good on tomorrow night,” I declared firmly.
“Didn’t you get the invite?”
“I did,” she answered. “But that’s not a date. It’s an event with
tons of people.”
“Well, if I were taking you to dinner, a movie, or a show, barring
me renting out the entire venue, there would be lots of other people
around. Tomorrow night will be no different, so it counts.”
“The hell it does!” Vestibule practically hissed, leaning forward
angrily. “First of all, you’re not picking me up, which is what I’d
expect – even for an outing, as you call it. I’m providing my own
transportation. Second, I’d anticipate at least being by your side, if
not on your arm, when we do this, but I doubt I’ll see you for more
than five minutes tomorrow. Third, I don’t envision your little lightning
rod being anywhere around when you finally decide to man up and
keep your promise.”
There was silence for a moment as Vestibule and I sat there
scowling at each other. She had just voiced the reason for her
displeasure, plainly stating her case. In addition, I felt frustration
rolling off her in waves. On my part, I didn’t care for the way that she
was implying that I was trying to duck my obligations.
“Ah, just to be clear,” Smokey said, breaking the silence, “a
lightning rod doesn’t actually create electricity, as was implied. What
it actually does is…”
Smokey’s voiced trailed off as Vestibule gave him a withering
look that would have felled an oak. Her expression made it clear that
she wasn’t in the mood to entertain comments from the peanut
gallery.
“Fine,” I finally said, drawing Vestibule’s attention back to me.
“You don’t like the arrangements I made for resolving this, so tell me
how you see it playing out.”
Her eyebrows shot up momentarily in surprise, and I could tell
from her emotions that my comment had caught her a little
unprepared. However, she recovered quickly.
“Well,” she said, smiling impishly, “word on the street is that you
took your little girlfriend to Paris a few months back.”
Now it was my turn to raise my eyebrows. “You’re kidding, right?
You can’t possibly want me to repeat the same date with you.”
Vestibule shook her head. “No, but it shows you’ve got
imagination. What I want is for you to apply that same creative spark
to our…” – she spent a moment searching for the right term – “…
jaunt.”
I chuckled at her choice of words, which elicited a giggle from
her in return. In addition to its traditional meaning, “jaunt” was a term
that was generally accepted as a synonym for “teleport” in the realm
of science fiction. Vestibule’s use of it implied that there might be
more to her than there appeared at first blush. (Plainly speaking, I
had always considered her to be a bit vapid, but perhaps I needed to
reassess that opinion.)
“Alright, we’ll do it your way,” I acquiesced. “Tomorrow is out of
the question, so how about Sunday afternoon?”
“Sunday night would be better,” she replied. “But I’ll take what I
can get. And who knows where the day may take us?”
I didn’t respond to that directly, preferring instead to suggest we
exchange contact info. (To be fair, Vestibule had actually written
down her relevant information for me on a previous occasion, but
Electra had taken possession of it almost immediately, and, well…
enough said.) We were still in the process of entering our respective
phone numbers on each other’s cell phones when I heard a familiar
voice.
“Please forgive me if I am interrupting, but I was hoping I could
join you.”
 The speaker was Li, another friend and fellow member of the
League’s teen affiliate. Unlike the rest of us, however, Li wasn’t
human; he was an AI housed in an android body. That said, he
looked like a typical teen and was ordinarily accepted as such (at
least by me and my peers).
“It’s fine, Li,” I said as Vestibule and I returned each other’s
phones. “Have a seat.”
“Yes, please do,” Vestibule added as she rose from her chair. “I
was about to leave anyway.” She turned to me. “So, I’ll see you
tomorrow, and we’re on for Sunday.”
I gave a terse nod but didn’t say anything. In reply, Vestibule
gave me a wink, then vanished.
 Another Random Document on
Scribd Without Any Related Topics
949. To Descartes, the great philosopher of the 17th century, is due
the undying credit of having removed the bann which until then
rested upon geometry. The analytical geometry, as Descartes’
method was called, soon led to an abundance of new theorems and
principles, which far transcended everything that ever could have
been reached upon the path pursued by the ancients.—Hankel, H.
Die Entwickelung der Mathematik in den
letzten Jahrhunderten (Tübingen, 1884),
p. 10.

950. [The application of algebra has] far more than any of his
metaphysical speculations, immortalized the name of Descartes, and
constitutes the greatest single step ever made in the progress of the
exact sciences.—Mill, J. S.
An Examination of Sir W. Hamilton’s
Philosophy (London, 1878), p. 617.

951. ... καί φασιν ὅτι Πτολεμαῖος ἤρετό ποτε αύτόν [Εὐκλειδην], εἴ
τίς ἐστιν περὶ γεωμετρίαν ὁδὸς συντομωτέρα τῆς στοιχειώσεως· ὁδὲ
ἀπεκρὶνατο μὴ εἶναι βασιλικὴν ἀτραπὸν ἐπὶ γεωμετρίαν.
[ ... they say that Ptolemy once asked him (Euclid) whether
there was in geometry no shorter way than that of the elements,
and he replied, “There is no royal road to geometry.”]—Proclus.
(Edition Friedlein, 1873), Prol. II, 39.

952. Someone who had begun to read geometry with Euclid, when
he had learned the first proposition, asked Euclid, “But what shall I
get by learning these things?” whereupon Euclid called his slave and
said, “Give him three-pence, since he must make gain out of what
he learns.”—Stobæus.
(Edition Wachsmuth, 1884), Ecl. II.
953. The sacred writings excepted, no Greek has been so much
read and so variously translated as Euclid.5—De Morgan, A.
Smith’s Dictionary of Greek and Roman
Biology and Mythology (London, 1902),
Article, “Eucleides.”

954. The thirteen books of Euclid must have been a tremendous

advance, probably even greater than that contained in the
“Principia” of Newton.—De Morgan, A.
Smith’s Dictionary of Greek and Roman
Biography and Mythology (London,
1902), Article, “Eucleides.”

955. To suppose that so perfect a system as that of Euclid’s

Elements was produced by one man, without any preceding model
or materials, would be to suppose that Euclid was more than man.
We ascribe to him as much as the weakness of human
understanding will permit, if we suppose that the inventions in
geometry, which had been made in a tract of preceding ages, were
by him not only carried much further, but digested into so admirable
a system, that his work obscured all that went before it, and made
them be forgot and lost.—Reid, Thomas.
Essay on the Powers of the Human Mind
(Edinburgh, 1812), Vol. 2, p. 368.

956. It is the invaluable merit of the great Basle mathematician

Leonhard Euler, to have freed the analytical calculus from all
geometrical bonds, and thus to have established analysis as an
independent science, which from his time on has maintained an
unchallenged leadership in the field of mathematics.—Hankel, H.
Die Entwickelung der Mathematik in den
letzten Jahrhunderten (Tübingen, 1884),
p. 12.
957. We may safely say, that the whole form of modern
mathematical thinking was created by Euler. It is only with the
greatest difficulty that one is able to follow the writings of any
author immediately preceding Euler, because it was not yet known
how to let the formulas speak for themselves. This art Euler was the
first one to teach.—Rudio, F.
Quoted by Ahrens W.: Scherz und Ernst
in der Mathematik (Leipzig, 1904), p.
251.

958. The general knowledge of our author [Leonhard Euler] was

more extensive than could well be expected, in one who had
pursued, with such unremitting ardor, mathematics and astronomy
as his favorite studies. He had made a very considerable progress in
medical, botanical, and chemical science. What was still more
extraordinary, he was an excellent scholar, and possessed in a high
degree what is generally called erudition. He had attentively read the
most eminent writers of ancient Rome; the civil and literary history
of all ages and all nations was familiar to him; and foreigners, who
were only acquainted with his works, were astonished to find in the
conversation of a man, whose long life seemed solely occupied in
mathematical and physical researches and discoveries, such an
extensive acquaintance with the most interesting branches of
literature. In this respect, no doubt, he was much indebted to an
uncommon memory, which seemed to retain every idea that was
conveyed to it, either from reading or from meditation.—Hutton,
Charles.
Philosophical and Mathematical
Dictionary (London, 1815), pp. 493-494.

959. Euler could repeat the Aeneid from the beginning to the end,
and he could even tell the first and last lines in every page of the
edition which he used. In one of his works there is a learned memoir
on a question in mechanics, of which, as he himself informs us, a
verse of Aeneid6 gave him the first idea.—Brewster, David.
Letters of Euler (New York, 1872), Vol. 1,
p. 24.

960. Most of his [Euler’s] memoirs are contained in the transactions

of the Academy of Sciences at St. Petersburg, and in those of the
Academy at Berlin. From 1728 to 1783 a large portion of the
Petropolitan transactions were filled by his writings. He had engaged
to furnish the Petersburg Academy with memoirs in sufficient
number to enrich its acts for twenty years—a promise more than
fulfilled, for down to 1818 [Euler died in 1793] the volumes usually
contained one or more papers of his. It has been said that an edition
of Euler’s complete works would fill 16,000 quarto pages.—Cajori, F.
History of Mathematics (New York,
1897), pp. 253-254.

961. Euler who could have been called almost without metaphor,
and certainly without hyperbole, analysis incarnate.—Arago.
Oeuvres, t. 2 (1854), p. 433.

962. Euler calculated without any apparent effort, just as men

breathe, as eagles sustain themselves in the air.—Arago.
Oeuvres, t. 2 (1854), p. 133.

963. Two of his [Euler’s] pupils having computed to the 17th term, a
complicated converging series, their results differed one unit in the
fiftieth cipher; and an appeal being made to Euler, he went over the
calculation in his mind, and his decision was found correct.—
Brewster, David.
Letters of Euler (New York, 1872), Vol. 2,
p. 22.
964. In 1735 the solving of an astronomical problem, proposed by
the Academy, for which several eminent mathematicians had
demanded several months’ time, was achieved in three days by Euler
with aid of improved methods of his own.... With still superior
methods this same problem was solved by the illustrious Gauss in
one hour.—Cajori, F.
History of Mathematics (New York,
1897), p. 248.

965. Euler’s Tentamen novae theorae musicae had no great success,

as it contained too much geometry for musicians, and too much
music for geometers.—Fuss, N.
Quoted by Brewster: Letters of Euler
(New York, 1872), Vol. 1, p. 26.

966. Euler was a believer in God, downright and straight-forward.

The following story is told by Thiebault, in his Souvenirs de vingt ans
de séjour à Berlin,.... Thiebault says that he has no personal
knowledge of the truth of the story, but that it was believed
throughout the whole of the north of Europe. Diderot paid a visit to
the Russian Court at the invitation of the Empress. He conversed
very freely, and gave the younger members of the Court circle a
good deal of lively atheism. The Empress was much amused, but
some of her counsellors suggested that it might be desirable to
check these expositions of doctrine. The Empress did not like to put
a direct muzzle on her guest’s tongue, so the following plot was
contrived. Diderot was informed that a learned mathematician was
in possession of an algebraical demonstration of the existence of
God, and would give it him before all the Court, if he desired to hear
it. Diderot gladly consented: though the name of the mathematician
is not given, it was Euler. He advanced toward Diderot, and said
gravely, and in a tone of perfect conviction:
Monsieur, donc Dieu existe; repondez!
 Diderot, to whom algebra was Hebrew, was embarrassed and
disconcerted; while peals of laughter rose on all sides. He asked
permission to return to France at once, which was granted.—De
Morgan, A.
Budget of Paradoxes (London, 1872), p.
251.

967. Fermat died with the belief that he had found along-sought-for
n
law of prime numbers in the formula 22 + 1 = a prime, but he
admitted that he was unable to prove it rigorously. The law is not
5
true, as was pointed out by Euler in the example 22 + 1 =
4,294,967,297 = 6,700,417 times 641. The American lightning
calculator Zerah Colburn, when a boy, readily found the factors but
was unable to explain the method by which he made his marvellous
mental computation.—Cajori, F.
History of Mathematics (New York,
1897), p. 180.

968. I crave the liberty to conceal my name, not to suppress it. I

have composed the letters of it written in Latin in this sentence—

In Mathesi a sole fundes.7—Flamsteed, J.

Macclesfield: Correspondence of
Scientific Men (Oxford, 1841), Vol. 2, p.
90.

969. To the Memory of Fourier

Fourier! with solemn and profound delight,
Joy born of awe, but kindling momently
To an intense and thrilling ecstacy,
I gaze upon thy glory and grow bright:
As if irradiate with beholden light;
 As if the immortal that remains of thee
Attuned me to thy spirit’s harmony,
Breathing serene resolve and tranquil might.
Revealed appear thy silent thoughts of youth,
As if to consciousness, and all that view
Prophetic, of the heritage of truth
To thy majestic years of manhood due:
Darkness and error fleeing far away,
And the pure mind enthroned in perfect day.
—Hamilton, W. R.
Graves’ Life of W. R. Hamilton, (New
York, 1882), Vol. 1, p. 596.

970. Astronomy and Pure Mathematics are the magnetic poles

toward which the compass of my mind ever turns.—Gauss to Bolyai.
Briefwechsel (Schmidt-Stakel), (1899), p.
55.

971. [Gauss calculated the elements of the planet Ceres] and his
analysis proved him to be the first of theoretical astronomers no less
than the greatest of “arithmeticians.”—Ball, W. W. R.
History of Mathematics (London, 1901),
p. 458.

972. The mathematical giant [Gauss], who from his lofty heights
embraces in one view the stars and the abysses....—Bolyai, W.
Kurzer Grundriss eines Versuchs (Maros
Vasarhely, 1851), p. 44.

973. Almost everything, which the mathematics of our century has

brought forth in the way of original scientific ideas, attaches to the
name of Gauss.—Kronecker, L.
 Zahlentheorie, Teil 1 (Leipzig, 1901), p.
43.

974. I am giving this winter two courses of lectures to three

students, of which one is only moderately prepared, the other less
than moderately, and the third lacks both preparation and ability.
Such are the onera of a mathematical profession.—Gauss to Bessel,
1810.
Gauss-Bessel Briefwechsel (1880), p.
107.

975. Gauss once said “Mathematics is the queen of the sciences and
number-theory the queen of mathematics.” If this be true we may
add that the Disquisitiones is the Magna Charta of number-theory.
The advantage which science gained by Gauss’ long-lingering
method of publication is this: What he put into print is as true and
important today as when first published; his publications are
statutes, superior to other human statutes in this, that nowhere and
never has a single error been detected in them. This justifies and
makes intelligible the pride with which Gauss said in the evening of
his life of the first larger work of his youth: “The Disquisitiones
arithmeticae belong to history.”—Cantor, M.
Allgemeine Deutsche Biographie, Bd. 8
(1878), p. 435.

976. Here I am at the limit which God and nature has assigned to
my individuality. I am compelled to depend upon word, language
and image in the most precise sense, and am wholly unable to
operate in any manner whatever with symbols and numbers which
are easily intelligible to the most highly gifted minds.—Goethe.
Letter to Naumann (1826); Vogel:
Goethe’s Selbstzeugnisse (Leipzig, 1903),
p. 56.
977. Dirichlet was not satisfied to study Gauss’ “Disquisitiones
arithmeticae” once or several times, but continued throughout life to
keep in close touch with the wealth of deep mathematical thoughts
which it contains by perusing it again and again. For this reason the
book was never placed on the shelf but had an abiding place on the
table at which he worked.... Dirichlet was the first one, who not only
fully understood this work, but made it also accessible to others.—
Kummer, E. E.
Dirichlet: Werke, Bd. 2, p. 315.

978. [The famous attack of Sir William Hamilton on the tendency of

mathematical studies] affords the most express evidence of those
fatal lacunae in the circle of his knowledge, which unfitted him for
taking a comprehensive or even an accurate view of the processes of
the human mind in the establishment of truth. If there is any pre-
requisite which all must see to be indispensable in one who attempts
to give laws to the human intellect, it is a thorough acquaintance
with the modes by which human intellect has proceeded, in the case
where, by universal acknowledgment, grounded on subsequent
direct verification, it has succeeded in ascertaining the greatest
number of important and recondite truths. This requisite Sir W.
Hamilton had not, in any tolerable degree, fulfilled. Even of pure
mathematics he apparently knew little but the rudiments. Of
mathematics as applied to investigating the laws of physical nature;
of the mode in which the properties of number, extension, and
figure, are made instrumental to the ascertainment of truths other
than arithmetical or geometrical—it is too much to say that he had
even a superficial knowledge: there is not a line in his works which
shows him to have had any knowledge at all.—Mill, J. S.
Examination of Sir William Hamilton’s
Philosophy (London, 1878), p. 607.

979. Helmholtz—the physiologist who learned physics for the sake

of his physiology, and mathematics for the sake of his physics, and is
now in the first rank of all three.—Clifford, W. K.
Aims and Instruments of Scientific
Thought; Lectures and Essays, Vol. 1
(London, 1901), p. 165.

980. It is said of Jacobi, that he attracted the particular attention

and friendship of Böckh, the director of the philological seminary at
Berlin, by the great talent he displayed for philology, and only at the
end of two years’ study at the University, and after a severe mental
struggle, was able to make his final choice in favor of mathematics.
—Sylvester, J. J.
Collected Mathematical Papers, Vol. 2
(Cambridge, 1908), p. 651.

981. When Dr. Johnson felt, or fancied he felt, his fancy disordered,
his constant recurrence was to the study of arithmetic.—Boswell, J.
Life of Johnson (Harper’s Edition, 1871),
Vol. 2, p. 264.

982. Endowed with two qualities, which seemed incompatible with

each other, a volcanic imagination and a pertinacity of intellect which
the most tedious numerical calculations could not daunt, Kepler
conjectured that the movements of the celestial bodies must be
connected together by simple laws, or, to use his own expression, by
harmonic laws. These laws he undertook to discover. A thousand
fruitless attempts, errors of calculation inseparable from a colossal
undertaking, did not prevent him a single instant from advancing
resolutely toward the goal of which he imagined he had obtained a
glimpse. Twenty-two years were employed by him in this
investigation, and still he was not weary of it! What, in reality, are
twenty-two years of labor to him who is about to become the
legislator of worlds; who shall inscribe his name in ineffaceable
characters upon the frontispiece of an immortal code; who shall be
able to exclaim in dithyrambic language, and without incurring the
reproach of anyone, “The die is cast; I have written my book; it will
be read either in the present age or by posterity, it matters not
which; it may well await a reader, since God has waited six thousand
years for an interpreter of his words.”—Arago.
Eulogy on Laplace: [Baden Powell]
Smithsonian Report, 1874, p. 132.

983. The great masters of modern analysis are Lagrange, Laplace,

and Gauss, who were contemporaries. It is interesting to note the
marked contrast in their styles. Lagrange is perfect both in form and
matter, he is careful to explain his procedure, and though his
arguments are general they are easy to follow. Laplace on the other
hand explains nothing, is indifferent to style, and, if satisfied that his
results are correct, is content to leave them either with no proof or
with a faulty one. Gauss is as exact and elegant as Lagrange, but
even more difficult to follow than Laplace, for he removes every
trace of the analysis by which he reached his results, and studies to
give a proof which while rigorous shall be as concise and synthetical
as possible.—Ball, W. W. R.
History of Mathematics (London, 1901),
p. 463.

984. Lagrange, in one of the later years of his life, imagined that he
had overcome the difficulty [of the parallel axiom]. He went so far as
to write a paper, which he took with him to the Institute, and began
to read it. But in the first paragraph something struck him which he
had not observed: he muttered Il faut que j’y songe encore, and put
the paper in his pocket.—De Morgan, A.
Budget of Paradoxes (London, 1872), p.
173.

985. I never come across one of Laplace’s “Thus it plainly appears”

without feeling sure that I have hours of hard work before me to fill
up the chasm and find out and show how it plainly appears.—
Bowditch, N.
Quoted by Cajori: Teaching and History
of Mathematics in the U. S. (Washington,
1896), p. 104.

986. Biot, who assisted Laplace in revising it [The Mécanique

Céleste] for the press, says that Laplace himself was frequently
unable to recover the details in the chain of reasoning, and if
satisfied that the conclusions were correct, he was content to insert
the constantly recurring formula, “Il est àisé a voir.”—Ball, W. W. R.
History of Mathematics (London, 1901),
p 427.

987. It would be difficult to name a man more remarkable for the

greatness and the universality of his intellectual powers than
Leibnitz.—Mill, J. S.
System of Logic, Bk. 2, chap. 5, sect. 6.

988. The influence of his [Leibnitz’s] genius in forming that peculiar

taste both in pure and in mixed mathematics which has prevailed in
France, as well as in Germany, for a century past, will be found,
upon examination, to have been incomparably greater than that of
any other individual.—Stewart, Dugald.
Philosophy of the Human Mind, Part 3,
chap. 1, sect. 3.

989. Leibnitz’s discoveries lay in the direction in which all modern

progress in science lies, in establishing order, symmetry, and
harmony, i.e., comprehensiveness and perspicuity,—rather than in
dealing with single problems, in the solution of which followers soon
attained greater dexterity than himself.—Merz, J. T.
Leibnitz, Chap. 6.
990. It was his [Leibnitz’s] love of method and order, and the
conviction that such order and harmony existed in the real world,
and that our success in understanding it depended upon the degree
and order which we could attain in our own thoughts, that originally
was probably nothing more than a habit which by degrees grew into
a formal rule.8 This habit was acquired by early occupation with
legal and mathematical questions. We have seen how the theory of
combinations and arrangements of elements had a special interest
for him. We also saw how mathematical calculations served him as a
type and model of clear and orderly reasoning, and how he tried to
introduce method and system into logical discussions, by reducing to
a small number of terms the multitude of compound notions he had
to deal with. This tendency increased in strength, and even in those
early years he elaborated the idea of a general arithmetic, with a
universal language of symbols, or a characteristic which would be
applicable to all reasoning processes, and reduce philosophical
investigations to that simplicity and certainty which the use of
algebraic symbols had introduced into mathematics.
A mental attitude such as this is always highly favorable for
mathematical as well as for philosophical investigations. Wherever
progress depends upon precision and clearness of thought, and
wherever such can be gained by reducing a variety of investigations
to a general method, by bringing a multitude of notions under a
common term or symbol, it proves inestimable. It necessarily
imports the special qualities of number—viz., their continuity, infinity
and infinite divisibility—like mathematical quantities—and destroys
the notion that irreconcilable contrasts exist in nature, or gaps which
cannot be bridged over. Thus, in his letter to Arnaud, Leibnitz
expresses it as his opinion that geometry, or the philosophy of
space, forms a step to the philosophy of motion—i.e., of corporeal
things—and the philosophy of motion a step to the philosophy of
mind.—Merz, J. T.
Leibnitz (Philadelphia), pp. 44-45.
991. Leibnitz believed he saw the image of creation in his binary
arithmetic in which he employed only two characters, unity and zero.
Since God may be represented by unity, and nothing by zero, he
imagined that the Supreme Being might have drawn all things from
nothing, just as in the binary arithmetic all numbers are expressed
by unity with zero. This idea was so pleasing to Leibnitz, that he
communicated it to the Jesuit Grimaldi, President of the
Mathematical Board of China, with the hope that this emblem of the
creation might convert to Christianity the reigning emperor who was
particularly attached to the sciences.—Laplace.
Essai Philosophique sur les Probabilités;
Oeuvres (Paris, 1896), t. 7, p. 119.

992. Sophus Lie, great comparative anatomist of geometric

theories.—Keyser, C. J.
Lectures on Science, Philosophy and Art
(New York, 1908), p. 31.

993. It has been the final aim of Lie from the beginning to make
progress in the theory of differential equations; as subsidiary to this
may be regarded both his geometrical developments and the theory
of continuous groups.—Klein, F.
Lectures on Mathematics (New York,
1911), p. 24.

994. To fully understand the mathematical genius of Sophus Lie,

one must not turn to books recently published by him in
collaboration with Dr. Engel, but to his earlier memoirs, written
during the first years of his scientific career. There Lie shows himself
the true geometer that he is, while in his later publications, finding
that he was but imperfectly understood by the mathematicians
accustomed to the analytic point of view, he adopted a very general
analytic form of treatment that is not always easy to follow.—Klein, F.
 Lectures on Mathematics (New York,
1911), p. 9.

995. It is said that the composing of the Lilawati was occasioned by

the following circumstance. Lilawati was the name of the author’s
[Bhascara] daughter, concerning whom it appeared, from the
qualities of the ascendant at her birth, that she was destined to pass
her life unmarried, and to remain without children. The father
ascertained a lucky hour for contracting her in marriage, that she
might be firmly connected and have children. It is said that when
that hour approached, he brought his daughter and his intended son
near him. He left the hour cup on the vessel of water and kept in
attendance a time-knowing astrologer, in order that when the cup
should subside in the water, those two precious jewels should be
united. But, as the intended arrangement was not according to
destiny, it happened that the girl, from a curiosity natural to children,
looked into the cup, to observe the water coming in at the hole,
when by chance a pearl separated from her bridal dress, fell into the
cup, and, rolling down to the hole, stopped the influx of water. So
the astrologer waited in expectation of the promised hour. When the
operation of the cup had thus been delayed beyond all moderate
time, the father was in consternation, and examining, he found that
a small pearl had stopped the course of the water, and that the long-
expected hour was passed. In short, the father, thus disappointed,
said to his unfortunate daughter, I will write a book of your name,
which shall remain to the latest times—for a good name is a second
life, and the ground-work of eternal existence.—Fizi.
Preface to the Lilawati. Quoted by A.
Hutton: A Philosophical and
Mathematical Dictionary, Article “Algebra”
(London, 1815).

996. Is there anyone whose name cannot be twisted into either

praise or satire? I have had given to me,
Thomas Babington Macaulay
Mouths big: a Cantab anomaly.
—De Morgan, A.
Budget of Paradoxes (London, 1872), p.
83.
 CHAPTER X
PERSONS AND ANECDOTES
(N-Z)

1001. When he had a few moments for diversion, he [Napoleon]

not unfrequently employed them over a book of logarithms, in which
he always found recreation.—Abbott, J. S. C.
Napoleon Bonaparte (New York, 1904),
Vol. 1, chap. 10.

1002. The name of Sir Isaac Newton has by general consent been
placed at the head of those great men who have been the
ornaments of their species.... The philosopher [Laplace], indeed, to
whom posterity will probably assign a place next to Newton, has
characterized the Principia as pre-eminent above all the productions
of human intellect.—Brewster, D.
Life of Sir Isaac Newton (London, 1831),
pp. 1, 2.

1003. Newton and Laplace need myriads of ages and thick-strewn

celestial areas. One may say a gravitating solar system is already
prophesied in the nature of Newton’s mind.—Emerson.
Essay on History.

1004. The law of gravitation is indisputably and incomparably the

greatest scientific discovery ever made, whether we look at the
advance which it involved, the extent of truth disclosed, or the
fundamental and satisfactory nature of this truth.—Whewell, W.
History of the Inductive Sciences, Bk. 7,
chap. 2, sect. 5.

1005. Newton’s theory is the circle of generalization which includes

all the others [as Kepler’s laws, Ptolemy’s theory, etc.];—the highest
point of the inductive ascent;—the catastrophe of the philosophic
drama to which Plato had prologized;—the point to which men’s
minds had been journeying for two thousand years.—Whewell, W.
History of the Inductive Sciences, Bk. 7,
chap. 2, sect. 5.

1006. The efforts of the great philosopher [Newton] were always

superhuman; the questions which he did not solve were incapable of
solution in his time.—Arago.
Eulogy on Laplace, [Baden Powell]
Smithsonian Report, 1874, p. 133.

1007.
Nature and Nature’s laws lay hid in night:
God said, “Let Newton be!” and all was light.
—Pope, A.
Epitaph intended for Sir Isaac Newton.

1008.
There Priest of Nature! dost thou shine,
Newton! a King among the Kings divine.
—Southey.
Translation of a Greek Ode on
Astronomy.
1009.
O’er Nature’s laws God cast the veil of night,
Out-blaz’d a Newton’s soul—and all was light.
—Hill, Aaron.
On Sir Isaac Newton.

1010. Taking mathematics from the beginning of the world to the

time when Newton lived, what he had done was much the better
half.—Leibnitz.
Quoted by F. R. Moulton: Introduction to
Astronomy (New York, 1906), p. 199.

1011. Newton was the greatest genius that ever existed, and the
most fortunate, for we cannot find more than once a system of the
world to establish.—Lagrange.
Quoted by F. R. Moulton: Introduction to
Astronomy (New York, 1906), p. 199.

1012. A monument to Newton! a monument to Shakespeare! Look

up to Heaven—look into the Human Heart. Till the planets and the
passions—the affections and the fixed stars are extinguished—their
names cannot die.—Wilson, John.
Noctes Ambrosianae.

1013. Such men as Newton and Linnaeus are incidental, but

august, teachers of religion.—Wilson, John.
Essays: Education of the People.

1014. Sir Isaac Newton, the supreme representative of Anglo-Saxon

genius.—Ellis, Havelock.
Study of British Genius (London, 1904),
p. 49.
1015. Throughout his life Newton must have devoted at least as
much attention to chemistry and theology as to mathematics....—
Ball, W. W. R.
History of Mathematics (London, 1901),
p. 335.

1016. There was a time when he [Newton] was possessed with the
old fooleries of astrology; and another when he was so far gone in
those of chemistry, as to be upon the hunt after the philosopher’s
stone.—Rev. J. Spence.
Anecdotes, Observations, and Characters
of Books and Men (London, 1868), p. 54.

1017. For several years this great man [Newton] was intensely
occupied in endeavoring to discover a way of changing the base
metals into gold.... There were periods when his furnace fires were
not allowed to go out for six weeks; he and his secretary sitting up
alternate nights to replenish them.—Parton, James.
Sir Isaac Newton.

1018. On the day of Cromwell’s death, when Newton was sixteen, a

great storm raged all over England. He used to say, in his old age,
that on that day he made his first purely scientific experiment. To
ascertain the force of the wind, he first jumped with the wind and
then against it; and, by comparing these distances with the extent of
his own jump on a calm day, he was enabled to compute the force
of the storm. When the wind blew thereafter, he used to say it was
so many feet strong.—Parton, James.
Sir Isaac Newton.

1019. Newton lectured now and then to the few students who
chose to hear him; and it is recorded that very frequently he came
to the lecture-room and found it empty. On such occasions he would
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