Chapter 12 (1/2)
”So stop me if this gets too personal,” Dan began, picking at the remains of his fried catfish, ”but why were you so willing to go along with Margaret's, er, story? Is that style of personal training more effective or something?”
Abigail choked on her drink. ”I-i-it's not because I enjoyed the idea or anything!” she denied extraordinarily quickly. ”I just really needed the work!”
”Really?” Dan glanced over her and couldn't help but add, ”You certainly look like you know your fitness.”
Abby coughed to clear her throat, then smiled bitterly. ”There's not much call for personal trainers these days, I'm afraid.”
Dan blinked in confusion. Did people not exercise in this strange new world?
Abigail picked up on his thoughts. ”Its because of all the health related body mods that have come out in the past few years.”
”Mods?” Dan clarified. ”Not an upgrade, then?”
”No, that would make things much simpler,” Abigail griped. ”The OhMyBod mod is compatible with about three-quarters of the most popular body upgrades, and it forcibly modifies a person's fat content.”
She furiously dragged a piece of shrimp through some cocktail sauce. ”I'm surprised you haven't heard of it. They have dozens of different variations. Mods to control where the fat goes, mods to increase muscle mass, mods to artificially increase endurance and lung capacity. Why work out when you can just buy a better body?”
”That... can't be healthy,” Dan said slowly.
Abigail shrugged. ”Seems like it right? But nothing has come up thus far. The mod was developed by AgriBuff, which is one of the largest frontrunners in that field. They've got the money to grease the wheels of the FDA, but its been five years with no major lawsuits.”
Dan was referring more to the act of repeatedly modding oneself, rather than any single issue. Constantly irradiating yourself to alter your physical features just seemed like a terrible idea to him. It reminded him a bit of the tobacco industry, and idly he wondered if people would start dying in droves a decade or two down the line. Hadn't Doctor Mercury mentioned something about superpowered cancer?
”Anyway, business has not been booming,” Abigail finished, stuffing a piece of shrimp into her mouth and chewing angrily.
”I can understand why,” Dan remarked, poking at the remainder of his meal. ”That mod sounds very useful.”
He glanced up, only to meet Abby's stricken gaze. The poor girl looked absolutely miserable, though it took Dan a moment to understand why.
”That's not for me, though,” he quickly reassured her. ”I've got a power that isn't compatible, but even if it was I'd rather do the work myself.”
It was a filthy lie, but it visibly brightened her mood.
”I've been meaning to ask, what kind of upgrade are you rockin'?” she said to him.
”Uh, short-hop.” Dan wracked his brain for the script Marcus had given him.
”A mutated short-hop,” he corrected himself.
”Really!?” Abigail asked, leaning forward excitedly. ”I've never met someone whose upgrade mutated before! Aren't the odds of that like one in a million?”
”S-somewhere around there, yeah,” Dan confirmed uncertainly. He didn't know the actual figures, but an upgrade occasionally went... not wrong precisely; more like differently than expected. A mutated upgrade still performed its expected function, but did so in a way that wildly defied standard deviation.
Every upgrade settled in a person differently. For short-hops, there generally existed small differences between individuals regarding distance per jump, frequency per jump, and the mental stress accumulated with repeated use of the power over the course of a day. Dan's power, which seemed to have virtually no limits on these three factors, could be reasonably passed off as a mutated version of the existing upgrade in casual conversation. It was even listed as such on the official registry, though Mercury had warned it would not survive a thorough investigation.
”So? What did you get?” Abby's voice was eager and intense.
Daniel recognized the reason. Mutates essentially possessed unregulated upgrades, like the vigilantes and villains of the 50's. A registered mutate was not put under any particular extra scrutiny, at first, but they were generally more capable than a standardly upgraded individual. They were also the way for a normal law-abiding citizen to gain obscene levels of power. It all came down to luck.
”I got a bit lucky with my mutation,” Dan explained quietly. ”My range is exponentially better than a standard short-hop, and I don't need to see where I'm going.”
Abigail continued leaning forward eagerly.
”Er, that's it,” Dan admitted awkwardly. It wasn't. He could theoretically do all sorts of neat things with non-living materials, but he couldn't tell her that.
”Oh.” She settled back into her seat with a thoughtful look. ”How far can you hop?”
”About five miles,” Dan stated with a serious face.
”That far!? Without line of sight!?” Abby exclaimed incredulously. Dan did his best not to grin with pride. He quietly reminded himself that he had not earned his power in any way.