The Law of Averages

Chapter 8

It was truly amazing, Dan reflected, how quickly one can adjust their standards of normal. A little over a week ago, Dan had worked at a lifeless corporate job, making just enough money to be satisfied and comfortable, while living in a cozy but run-down apartment. Today he worked for a man that might generously be described as a mad scientist, earning far more money than his effort deserved, while living in a high-tech space station orbiting Neptune. His life had gotten weird, but he was almost at the point of being able to shrug it all off.

Today was an equipment delivery day. Doctor Mercury—Marcus, Dan had to constantly remind himself—would place an order for new science stuff back on Earth, and Dan would pick it up directly from a 'trusted supplier'. He had quickly discovered his weight limit was just over one-hundred fifty pounds (or sixty-eight kilograms, as this bizarre version of America sometimes liked to use metric), which had been his exact weight upon arriving in this dimension. No problems there, though, as the parts were simply disassembled for transport by the gruff chain-smoker who owned the store. Even making over a dozen separate trips, it took Dan all of ten minutes to make a full run.

Marcus paid well, though. It was the convenience, more than anything, that kept Dan employed. The doctor could order whatever he wanted, equipment, materials, food, and Dan could pick it up that very day. This process was infinitely preferable to waiting the months it would take for the bi-annual ship to reach the station.

It seemed that Dan had, purely by accident, found himself as owner, founder, and CEO of the most efficient delivery service in existence. This was a bit of a problem for Dan, because as previously mentioned, his work day lasted anywhere between ten minutes to half an hour, depending on how lazy he felt. After that, he was 'on call', checking in with the doctor once every half-hour or so, usually being used to pick up food. The entire situation was a bit surreal to Dan. He had the ability to teleport from one end of the solar system to the other, but was mostly being used like an Uber Eats driver.

Of course, he only had the one client. Expansion was possible but dangerous. As per his deal with Marcus, Dan was now a real boy, with a name and a social security number and, most importantly, a spot on the power registry. He was Daniel Newman, proud owner of a slightly mutated short-hop upgrade.

Short-hops were exactly what they sounded like. The average distance one might expect per jump from someone with this upgrade would be around fifty to seventy meters, with the ability to bring along pretty much anything that they could physically lift. The power was limited to line-of-sight, forcing Dan to don a large pair of reflective aviators to hide his eyes to avoid questions, and could be chained as often as needed. They made for very efficient couriers, but nothing could quite compete with Dan. Mercury had been very thorough with his cover story. Dan even had a convincing deception prepared should someone catch him teleporting with his eyes closed, but he'd rather not have to test his ability to lie about a subject that he was only marginally versed in.

This made expanding his clientele past those who Doctor Mercury specifically trusted dicey, to say the least. Getting outed, so to speak, was a constant concern to Dan. He had little interest in being monitored by the government, nor being thrown in a cage somewhere to be poked and prodded by more mad scientists than he already had to deal with. So it was through a combination of fear and caution, and definitely not laziness, that Dan deliberately limited his work hours.

As such, he was left with a great deal of free time.

Dan had first intended to use this time to better himself. He really had. He had worked out, using the station's facilities to jog and lift weights. He had practiced his power, attempting to lower the amount of time it took to focus on a new place. He had visited a public library, at the doctor's suggestion, to read up on where this dimension's history diverged from his own.

He didn't get very far with that last bit. It was simply too depressing.

Powers first appeared in America after the end of World War II. On January 5th, 1948, a prototype nuclear weapon exploded in the skies above New Mexico. The exact details were still classified to the public, but it was commonly accepted that this was a result of a weapons test gone bad. Whatever the reason, the bomb went off fifteen kilometers in the air above the White Sands Missile Range. Through a series of horrifying chemical interactions that Dan could not make heads or tails of, this somehow tore a hole in the Earth's atmosphere, flooding the state in cosmic radiation. The rupture quickly sealed itself, but the radiation remained.

Now, Dan was fairly sure that cosmic radiation existed in his parallel. He was also fairly sure that it killed people just as easily as any other kind of radiation. That was not the case, here. Rather than a national tragedy, New Mexico became the birthplace of superpowers. People flocked in from far and wide, in search of self-betterment. Like some kind of irradiated Mecca, the state acted as a beacon of hope and discovery for the American people.

Now, World War II had only just ended recently, and superhero comics were still a popular form of media. In Dan's parallel, they had petered out for a time, before surging back into the spotlight during the sixties. Here, the golden age of comics had lasted until the year 1955.

Seven years. That was how long it took for people to ruin the idea of superheroes.

It was as if the Wild West had come back to life. Vigilante justice reigned supreme, powered people fought in the street, property damage rose to an all-time high, and things just generally went to shit. As it turns out, a little power can make people a lot crazy.

Cosmic radiation was not broadly understood now, to say nothing of those early years. People swarmed in to White Sands, hoping for the best. Some came out of it with super-strength, or super-speed, or the ability to fly. Some came out of it with an awful sunburn and skin cancer. Some came out of it with the ability to breathe out of their ears, or spit blood out of their eyes. The process of gaining powers was, to be blunt, a shit show.

This was not an acceptable state of affairs for anyone. Wannabe heroes roamed the streets, hurting more than they helped. Villains popped up left and right, some with absurd powers and some absurdly powerful. Laws were casually disregarded, lynching became commonplace, and things generally raged out of control.

Dan didn't read much past that. There were crackdowns, of course. Upgrade technology came out at some point, guaranteeing specific powers. Regulations were put into place, laws were drawn up to target vigilantes, and America's fascination with superheroes died in a ditch, clubbed over the head by cruel reality.

Dans self-improvement plan hit a bit of wall after discovering that. He just couldn't see the point, really. At least he could put to rest his insane dreams of heroism. His life slowly regressed to a convincing facade of normal. If he crossed his eyes and squinted, he could almost pretend that he was back home. Well, aside from the powers, but they were both commonplace and commercialized. He would learn to take them for granted eventually, same as everyone else.

Dan appeared in front of his favorite bagel shop. He had discovered, earlier this week, that he could not teleport to a spot occupied by another person. Both Dan and Marcus were a bit embarassed that neither had thought to check such a thing earlier. It was a very important detail of his power. Regardless, he could jump around town with limited risk of dismemberment. It was getting to the point where Dan forced himself to walk occassionally, just for the novelty of it.

He waited patiently in line, absently noting the physical features of the woman in front of him. Doctor Mercury had not lied to Dan about the state of powers on Earth, but he was wrong in one particular aspect. There were far more useless powers available than the doctor had first indicated. Researching how to manifest a specific upgrade was an expensive and time-consuming process. Marcus believed, because he was an out-of-touch old man, that no one would waste their time developing an almost purely cosmetic upgrade.

He was wrong.

Cat ears, a tail, and claws. Dan recognized the woman's upgrade. Practically speaking, it marginally increased ones hearing, and gave an almost perfect sense of balance. Dan doubted anyone purchased it for that purpose. Most upgrades were refined to the point that physical aspects only manifested themselves while in use. Muscles could swell, skin could turn to steel, eyes could change color and shape to see better at night, things of that nature. The appropriately named Purrfection upgrade used the physical features as a selling point, rather than something to be concealed. It was wildly popular.

People were strange. That, at least, hadn't changed between dimensions.

Dan smiled at the cashier, and paid in cash for his bagels. He had yet to open a bank account, but he really ought to get around to it. At some point his earnings would no longer fit inside his pillow case or beneath his mattress, and then he'd be in trouble.

He stepped outside, leaned against the outer wall of the shop, and closed his eyes. He could feel the transition if he tried: the sun left his skin, the temperature wavered, the sounds of the city disappeared. At least the doctor kept Dan's quarters on Central Standard Time. Delivering breakfast would be a pain in the ass otherwise.

He made the short walk from his quarters to the doctor's laboratory. The polished metal doors fwooshed open as he approached, revealing an immaculately clean workspace, with the doctor nowhere in sight. Dan quickly dropped a bagel on the nearest table, crumbs and all.

The next moment, he was in Austin, in front of his not-home, once again. His second bagel was for Miss Margaret, the kindly old bank teller of the Pearson Hotel. He hadn't meant to return to this place, hadn't meant to befriend her. He'd only come back to show the woman that he was okay, that he was functional. Dan still wasn't certain if that first trip was for her benefit or for his, but she seemed so happy to talk to him that he kept showing up. He was like a stray cat, except he brought the food and she brought the conversation.

It was nice, he had eventually concluded. He enjoyed talking to someone normal. It made him feel like things were getting better. The building too, despite, or maybe because of its vast differences to his own, made him feel safe. Nothing bad could happen here. The place barely ever had visitors. Dan had no idea how they stayed in business.

He smiled to himself, shaking his head as he pushed open the familiar antique doors. Had this world been just a little bit different, his imagination would've run wild at the possibilities. Perhaps it was a front for a sprawling criminal organization, or a secret base for a superhero, or utilized some sort of alien technology to power itself.

But not here, not in this world. The Pearson was perfectly normal, or as close to normal as a Wild West themed hotel could get.

The point was Dan could relax here. He could be himself, just some random guy. Here he could bury his dreams of heroism, and just live like he used to, before his life went pear-shaped. Nothing strange happened at the Pearson. It was a perfect, boring little slice of heaven and he hoped it would never change.

So, of course, Dan entered the building just as its bank was being robbed.

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