LOG: Forge, Hank, Tuesday afternoon

[x-forge.livejournal.com]

Mentor and student finally get the chance to sit down and talk shop, as well as other things.



Hank was discovering all over again that, while psionic energy is a measurable thing, it is very difficult to compare to more... not natural, perhaps 'common' was a better word... forms of energy. Certainly, there was a point at which energy consumed matter... but how on earth to work out at exactly what point psionic energy would do so?

He was almost relieved when he heard the soft tap at his half-open door, and looked up to see Forge standing there. Still a problem, but one, at least, that didn't remind him how long it had been since he'd really studied physics. "Come in, Forge," he said cheerfully, smiling in what he hoped was an encouraging way. The boy had had, by the sound of it, a rather fraught few days... and that wasn't even counting what had happened on Muir. "It's good to finally get a chance to talk to you."

"No problem, sir," Forge peered around Hank's blue-furred shoulder at the computer screen. "Lateral waveform shift," he announced, "you're trying to make the readings match up with standard electromagnetic oscillation. Try thinking of it three-dimensionally." Forge made a complicated movement with his artificial hand. At Hank's brief silence, Forge managed to look somewhat bemused. "The Professor was explaining to me how Cerebro works the other day, and I kind of took the theory a few steps further. Anyway," he clapped his hands together, "you had something for me?"

"Actually, I wanted to talk to you. Although I may get you to help Moira and I on this project too, if you're interested... we're trying to work out at what level Jonothon was when he became too powerful to be contained by matter, if that's what happened, and how to get him back below that level again so that he at least has a chance of reforming." Hank turned away from the computer, and looked closely at the boy. Hm. He still looked tired, but not too frazzled... "How did your trip with Danielle go?"

Forge blinked. Dr. McCoy was asking for his help? "Well, uh, sure. The trip? Not bad, I... uh... it's a different lifestyle down there. And she got her stuff taken care of, so I think it all worked out in the end."

He looked briefly down at his hand, deciding to gloss over his encounter with Dani's ex-husband. "Definitely better than I expected, I'd guess."

"She assured me that you kicked ass, in fact," Hank said, smiling a little. "A deserving ass, I hope. She certainly seemed proud of you." He was impressed that Forge had managed to kick any ass at all, given his size and disinclination to exercise, but then, he'd been built like a mack truck in highschool and still hadn't managed it. Size wasn't everything.

Immediately looking down at the floor, Forge stammered for a moment. "It wasn't like that," he explained, "he shouldn't have put his hands on her is all. I wish she wouldn't go crowing about it."

"She was proud of you. And so am I," Hank said seriously. "Any blow struck in the defense of another is an honourable one... an old-fashioned viewpoint, I know, but one I've always held to. Especially when that other is a lady, and in distress enough as it is."

Given the circumstances, Forge wasn't exactly thinking of his actions as honorable. But he wasn't about to argue. "She's good people, though. I didn't mention to her that the battery pack on the inhibitor ran down Monday morning. She made it two days without losing control, which seems to be pretty good. Scary stuff, her power."

"Indeed... and it ws probably best not to worry her about it. As long as psis *believe* their power is under control, it tends to stay that way. Good thinking." Hank smiled approvingly. Then he remembered, and tried not to smile. "You both seem to have done very well, under rather trying conditions... sleeping conditions, among other things."

At that, Forge slumped into a nearby chair and began melodramatically beating his head against Hank's desk. "Who else do I have to convince that nothing happened? I fell asleep while she was in the shower, I woke up in the bed and she'd already gone to breakfast. Hell," he deadpanned, "I didn't even know she was there. Apparently I kick."

Hank reached out to interpose a large hand between the desk and the student's head. "I'm sure nothing happened," he said soothingly. "Believe me, I've been in similar situations myself... and worse." He grinned reminiscently. "You want strange sleeping conditions, try waking up the morning after a party, in a group of twelve, both genders represented, and discovering that everyone's underwear is missing. The other clothing remains, but the underwear is gone." He shook his his head. "We never did find it, either."

At that, Forge blushed. "Reminds me why I don't go to parties," he replied. "I have enough trouble getting shit for things I *didn't* do, or even really have time for." He picked at a loose string at the end of the cut-off leg of his threadbare jeans. "Not really a priority, because it's not likely to be an issue, you know?"

"You'd be surprised." Hank smiled. "That particular event was in college, when I fell in with a group of fellow medical students and scientists. Good people, entirely unconcerned with my appearance, and inquisitive to the point of idiocy. If you attend the right institutions, I assure you... as long as you can explain the exact physics involved in the theoretical case that a mystical dungbeetle provides the sun's motivating force, or can build a clockwork man to the description provided by the illustrious Mr Baum, you won't lack for party invitations." He leaned back, tapping his fingertips together thoughtfully. "And what sort of trouble have you had for things you didn't do?" he asked curiously.

Rolling his eyes, Forge gestured with his hand. "Kyle. The Dani thing. I know he's poking fun, but still. I stopped poking fun at his ears and claws because I know it bothers him." Forge neglected to mention the dressing-down that Mr. Dayspring had given him. "I mean, I know things are a lot more 'open' here," he made the exaggerated finger quotes to illustrate his sarcasm, "but I'd rather not be, if it's all the same to everyone."

"Ahh." Hank nodded. "Probably very wise. And Kyle is... well, he's fourteen." He smiled ruefully. "A condition that only time can cure. But he will get over it, I assure you... and teasing aside, I doubt anyone believes you would take advantage of Danielle's vulnerable state at such a time." Or let her take advantage of him, either, thank goodness. The troubles that had resulted around here by one or both party being unable to resist temptation...

Forge nodded, smiling over at the doctor. "Well, I don't care who talks. I just don't want to have to hear it, you know? But anyway," he gestured, trying to change the subject, "now that you're going to be here on a regular basis, were we going to keep on with the independent study courses I've been taking? I was hearing interesting things on these design courses that NYU offers..."

"But of course. I also have a more practical project for you to work on... a loan from a friend, who's retired and has far too much time on his hands. He invents the oddest things..." Hank grinned. The interesting practical applications of advanced robotics aside, he was really looking forward to seeing Forge's face when he saw what the thing actually was. "I asked if I could borrow one for you to tinker with, and he agreed... it should be showing up some time next week."

Insatiable curiosity piqued, Forge leaned forward conspiratorially. "Prototypes? What of? Robotics? Sensors? Electronics? You know I'm up for it, sir." He cracked the knuckles of his right hand, flexing his left unconsciously in the habitual gesture. "I have to admit, I love the theory, but there's no substitute for a workbench, right?"

"Definitely not. And I won't tell you what it is, but it's one of Wilbur Wallace's little inventions." Given that dear old Wilbur had been at the forefront of the robotics industry for thirty years before he retired, he was sure Forge would know the name. "I've known him for a great many years, and he was very interested to hear about you... I must introduce you two at some point. Aside from anything else, Wilbur is a very useful contact when it comes to getting hold of unusual... or slightly classified... materials."

THAT got Forge's attention laser-focused. "Wilbur Wallace? The same guy who designed the outer-atmosphere remote telepresence probes? Shit, there's not an advanced robotics unit anywhere that doesn't have some of his patents in it." Sitting back in the chair, he tried to calm himself. "First superjets, now Wallace prototypes. You guys are trying to kill me."

"But with kindness, my boy, with kindness." Hank grinned. "And he says you may tinker with it all you like, as long as you put it back the way it was when you're done." He waved a finger. "Also, this will be a good chance for you to practice drawing up plans and so forth.... although you're not to alter the prototype, if you do come up with any improvements, Wilbur would like to see some schematics."

Forge's mood suddenly came screeching to a halt. "Schematics," he repeated. "Ah. Fair enough. I mean, I can do that. Of course."

Activating the shorthand function of his mechanical hand, Forge made himself a quick note: Learn schematics before Friday.

Hank smiled. "We'll have it for a month, so there's no hurry... but he'd like to see what you come up with, when we send it back." Now that Forge seemed relatively relaxed, he decided to risk the major question, which he should have asked as soon as the boy got back the first time. "I also wanted to ask, while you're here... Muir was your first contact with a major conflict," he said gently. "I know you talked to Charles about it... I was concerned when I realized you'd left before I got a chance to discuss it with you, and he reassured me on that point, although of course he didn't tell me what you'd discussed. I don't want to pry, but.. well. I want you to know that you can talk to me on any topic, should you wish to."

Breathing deeply, Forge closed his eyes and tried to stop his hands from shaking. "The Professor and I had a talk, yeah. And he had me talk to Doctor Samson when I got back. He says it was a panic attack, and he's got some medication he wants me to try. But the Professor," Forge opened his eyes, not meeting Henry's gaze, "he really knew what I was feeling, you know? And not because he can read minds. He knows what it's like. Feeling useless. Crippled."

Hank nodded. "Something I have never experienced," he admitted. "Although feeling freakish is something I'm entirely familiar with, of course." He reached out tentatively to pat Forge's shoulder lightly... he wasn't really sure how the boy felt about physical contact yet. "If it helps," he said gently, "nobody takes it very well, the first time they have to deal with it. I know I didn't, and none of the others that I know of did, either... we all panic, to a greater or lesser extent." He paused. "Except for the feral types, who tend to try to eat the attacker, or at least bite a few chunks off. I don't know if that's necessarily a healthier way of coping."

Forge jumped slightly at the contact, then relaxed. "Kyle didn't freak out. He sucked it up and took on Magneto. The damn BROTHERHOOD. Like it was nothing. Stuff like that's reflex for people like him. Like Shiro. Like Mr. Dayspring. Brave people." By his body language, the term was apparently meaning everyone on the planet except him.

"Kyle is a feral type who reacted by trying to bite chunks out of the enemy," Hank pointed out. "Predatory instincts can be an asset, in that kind of situation... and a good imagination, a distinct drawback. Your instincts, in any situation, are to work out what exactly the problem is, in what ways it can go wrong, and how best to repair it with a minimal number of those potential other problems occurring. In short, you do actually realize what can go wrong. It's a drawback, in combat." He patted the shoulder again. "When I was young, it took me a while to realize that the reason some of my teammates were so much less concerned with danger was that they really didn't realize how much of it there was." Which was, perhaps, a slight disservice to his former teammates... but not really much of one. Some people just didn't think far enough ahead to get scared of all the things that MIGHT go wrong... and they tended to die heroic deaths, sooner or later, because of it.

"I'll get through it," Forge insisted, "I mean, I... thanks. Really." It was becoming obvious that he wanted to talk about anything but this particular subject. "So do you think Mister Wallace would stop by? You know, see what the younger generation can do with his designs first-hand?"

Hank nodded, deciding he should probably let it go for now. "I'm sure he will, at some point... he's always interested in new faces and ideas. He's always encouraged me to spend more time on 'proper inventing' as he calls it, instead of messing about with people's insides." He grinned. "People, he often complains, are very poorly designed."

"Isn't that the truth?" Forge said with a smile. "Doctor MacTaggart insists I have to pass AP Biology before I can crack a Cybernetics text. If biology made as much sense as the rest of science, it'd be no problem." Forge scowled.

"Oh, I know... most biologists I know wind up with a devout belief in a Creator, since they can't figure out how certain things could possibly have appeared on their own." Hank smiled, and then he brightened. He'd almost forgotten... "Oh! And I have your belated Christmas present, still." He went to the Cupboard of Stuff to rummage around for it."

Forge chuckled at the mention of Christmas. "Did you know Clarice got me a gift certificate to Radio Shack?" He covered his eyes in mock embarassment. "Her heart's in the right place, really it is. But it's like giving a gourmet a Happy Meal from McDonalds'. They do sell resistors in bulk, though."

"Never underestimate the importants of stocking up on the basis... screwdrivers, for example, have the most uncanny tendency to lose themselves. I found one in one of my shoes, once, and I have NO idea how it got there." He found the small package, still neatly wrapped, and offered it to the boy. "A merry belated Christmas to you, Forge."

Forge cracked the wrapper and drew out the stainless steel box. He opened it with a whistle, eyes widening at the miniaturized set of work tools. "Swiss. Niiiiiice," he breathed. "These'll come in real handy. Thanks. I mean it, thank you." He knew such craftsmanship was hard to come by through normally available outlets.

"I didn't, I mean..." Forge shrugged, "Didn't really know what anyone needed."

"Gifts tend to be optional, around here... if you see something you know someone would like, for example, you might grab it, but there's no obligation. And I'm glad you like them." He smiled. "You're going to need them, for some of the work we'll be doing."

"Practical," Forge nodded, "I can dig that. It's appreciated." He looked around briefly, getting an idea. "So when should I expect to get hands-on with Dr. Wallace's prototype?"

"As soon as it arrives. Probably Monday." Hank grinned. It was nice to have someone to share the excitement of it all with. "Tuesday at the latest. And he's promised to clean it before delivery, so at least we won't have to worry about that."

"Interesting," was all Forge would say. A buzz attracted his attention from his PDA. "I hate to run, sir, but I promised Kyle I'd give him a hand with his algebra. I really think he's getting the hang of it. As long as explain variables in wrestling terms."

"Of course, and I'm glad you're helping out." Hank beamed approvingly. "And Forge... if you do ever want to talk about anything, do let me know. It's what I'm here for."

"Thanks, sir. I'll remember that." Forge instinctively glanced down to check his email and rolled his eyes. "Algebra as soon as we deal with a freaked-out Catseye, that is..."

Comments

[x-sanfuaiyaa.livejournal.com]

most biologists I know wind up with a devout belief in a Creator, since they can't figure out how certain things could possibly have appeared on their own

*shudders* Ugh. Don't get me started on Intelligent Design :P