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Sue thumbed through the pages of an old, dog-eared copy of Foucalt's 'Discipline and Punish'. She must have read this copy at least 5 times in her life, stumbling across it in her father's library as a young girl which sparked a lifetime love of French philosophy - and a further pretentious phase in her adolescent years wherein she forced her brother to watch countless French New Wave movies in exchange for driving him around to meet his friends. Reminiscing back on her brother as she seemed to do more and more recently, she couldn't help but see the irony in his hatred for movies like 'Breathless' when she couldn't picture a movie character more similar to him than the protagonist of that flick.
She allowed herself a smile for a moment, deep in thought, before her fiance interrupted her thinking over the noise of his furious keystrokes against the keyboard of the computer terminal.
"I can't believe you still read that stuff, Sue. Give me a copy of Popper or Von Neumann any day over those French quacks" He let out a quick chuckle. Sue rolled her eyes, it was time for this conversation again it seemed.
"Science without philosophy is blind, darling. Plus-" She continued, wagging the book towards him as she spoke. "-There's a lot in this old French quack's perspective that you might find relevant to the world we're living in now. If you managed to open up that closed mind of yours."
Reed didn't look away from the terminal, but the corner of his mouth tightened - his version of a smile. "Perspective is all relative. Foucault makes broad claims about systems of power - at least that's what I've gathered from his wikipedia. I prefer mechanisms I can test." He relaxed slightly in his chair, happy in the knowledge that his playful jab would elicit a reaction.
Sue tapped a finger against the cover. "You'd be surprised how close his analysis is to what we're living now. Surveillance states, prisons masquerading as protection, people reduced to numbers in ledgers. He was writing about the panopticon in the eighteenth century, Reed, but he may as well have been describing Lord's checkpoints. You've seen the news about the Raft!"
That caught him; his typing slowed. "You're suggesting philosophy has predictive value."
"I'm suggesting that the Mad Thinker we met isn't just testing our code, he's testing us. Our choices, our ethics. And if you reduce everything to calculations, you're already playing by his rules." She glanced down at the book for a second before adding softly, "That's how systems like this win, Reed. They convince you morality is something that can be debated upon."
For a moment, the only sound in the Annex was the hum of cooling fans and the low hiss of recycled air. Reed's eyes flicked back to the screen, but Sue knew the words had landed. He could dismiss Foucault, but not the question she'd just put between them. Fortunately, or perhaps unfortunately for him he wouldn't need to answer, as if he were listening to them the Mad Thinker's text began to scroll along the screen in front of Reed.
[GOOD MORNING, LAB RATS.]
"Sue get over here." She put down her book and hurried over to him, resting her arm across the back of his chair as they read the text.
[READY FOR ANOTHER TEST?]
The screen was soon filled with different windows opening proxy servers displaying maps, blueprints, schematics, and finally a series of videos showing various human rights violations committed against Metahumans by members of the Lord regime. A data bomb that if unleashed could throw acid in the face of the president and his soldiers at precisely the right time to hamper the grand opening of his Raft.
They both felt an electric current of excitement and anxiety course through them. This was huge, information like this being made public could turn the tide of public opinion at least in some part, let alone what these schematics could do for other resistance fighters. Sue's mind ran with thoughts of impeachment, of civil change - Reed's ran with the thought of reverse engineering the power dampener collars. They both knew this had to come with a catch. If something feels too good to be true it very often is.
The maps and schematics began to flicker, collapsing into cascading lines of code that reorganized themselves into a single pulsing directive. The Annex's lights dimmed as if even the building itself was bracing for what came next.
[HERE IS YOUR CHOICE, LAB RATS.]
Two windows opened. On the left, a launch command tethered to the Agency's drone fleet. Below it a grainy black and white live feed, circling around a group of unknowing civilians in Gotham hundreds of feet below. On the right, a dump of Agency comm logs, prison manifests, and the Raft's intake schedules.
[PUSH THE BUTTON, AND THE WORLD CHANGES. A STRIKE, FROM LORD'S OWN EQUIPMENT. CHAOS WILL FOLLOW. CHAOS HE CAN'T CONTROL.]
Reed's stomach dropped. His mind was already running the probabilities, unwanted calculations filling in like a reflex. If the strike succeeded, Lord's narrative shattered. Detainees freed. Potentially thousands, maybe even more saved. His jaw tightened. Thousands saved, at the cost of dozens - maybe hundreds - of innocents.
Sue's face hardened as she read, her eyes narrowing. "He wants us to burn civilians to save the many." Her hand clenched against the desk, invisible energy sparking faintly across her knuckles. "This isn't a choice. What is his game, why not the data without the other? We can't Reed, we're not murderers."
Reed leaned forward, fingers hovering over the keys. "It's not that simple." He winced as the words left his mouth, knowing how they'd sound. "If the regime collapses, how many families walk free? How many children never see the inside of a detention block?"
Sue turned sharply to face him, her voice cutting. "And how many mothers bury their kids because you thought the numbers added up?"
"How many lose theirs because we let Lord abudct them?"
There was a silence in the room. Neither of them wanted to consider either option. Sue forced herself to steady her breathing. She knew Reed's brain was already sketching out contingencies - how to divert the exploit, how to reroute it, how to find an impossible third option. That was who he was. But she also knew how the Thinker worked. "Every second we waste arguing, he wins. This isn't about which button we push. It's about proving he doesn't control the board."
The green text pulsed again, as if in answer:
[OPTION A: SOIL YOUR HANDS, SAVE THE MANY.
OPTION B: KEEP THEM CLEAN, LET THE MANY SUFFER.]
The cursor blinked at the bottom of the screen, waiting. Reed's fingers hovered just above the keys. He hated the binary. Every fiber of his mind screamed there had to be another way - a hidden subroutine, an overlooked failsafe, a vulnerability the Thinker hadn't considered. If only he had more time.
"I can try to reroute it." he murmured, eyes flicking over the lines of code cascading across the screen. "If I strip out the targeting instructions, maybe we can salvage the data without triggering the strike. Or at least redirect it somewhere safer."
Sue's jaw tightened. "And if it backfires?"
"I'm not sure. We could end up sending the strike without getting the data."
They both paused for a moment. Sue put her hand on his shoulder and looked into his eyes. "Reed, we cannot risk the deaths of innocents. This is not who we are. It's time to choose the third option, not to play at all."
Reed thought for a moment, brushing a hand across his beard before nodding solemnly. "Better that than blood on our hands." Reed exhaled through his nose, then began to type, not the command the Thinker had offered, but their own act of rebellion against him.
[WE'RE NOT PLAYING YOUR GAME THINKER. WE CHOOSE THE THIRD OPTION.]
Then the entire system seized. The screen flashed white, then black. A hiss of static filled the Annex. One by one, the windows collapsed into nothing. Suddenly text filled the screen once more.
[CLEVER.]
The words lingered on the empty screen, pulsing like a heartbeat. The terminal went dead. Cooling fans spun down into silence. Reed slumped back in his chair, a sigh escaping his mouth. All that data - gone. Thousands of lives that might have been saved, the Raft's secrets, the Agency's schedules - all evaporated.
Sue placed a hand on his shoulder, firm and steady. "We didn't lose, Reed. We didn't play his game."
He looked up at her, guilt flickering across his features. "And the people still locked in cells? The kids still wearing dampeners?"
"They're not free yet." She admitted softly. "But they will be. The right way."
The dark monitor reflected their faces, side by side in the dim Annex light. Behind their tired eyes, the cursor blinked back to life for just an instant.
[TEST COMPLETE.]
And then even that vanished, leaving them in silence. For a moment neither of them said anything, Reed opened up a chat window and shot a message to Elder. Despite the ominous warning from Belo the last time they'd met he had to admit he was thankful he had the mole man to work on tracking the Mad Thinker while they struggled with their decision. They were hot on his trail now, this time they'd be taking the fight to him.