"Yeah, yeah. Do whatever you want. Yeah. No. Whatever, that's fine. Just do what you always do. Later." Solitaire hung up. God, being famous was such a hassle. It was why she had an agent, and paid her as much as she did. It wasn't like she really spent her absurd salary on anything else anyway, the least it could do was keep the corporate vultures away. It had been fun at first, now it was just wearing.

That was precisely why Solitaire had Katherine Baker. Kat was young, bright eyed, bubbly, extremely intelligent, and so completely enthusiastic that you just had to like her. Solitaire had found her completely by accident, after another of her grating public appearances. Solitaire had been walking around downtown New York, moderately disguised so as to simply be another Nova-fangirl and enjoying the illusion of just being another face in the crowd. A few people had commented on 'costume', remarking that it was good, but the zippers were out of place, or that the tear was on the wrong knee. It was all she could do not to laugh. This must be what Charlie Chaplin felt like when he came in 3rd at his own look-alike contest. Solitaire thought, grinning.


Katherine had been on the sidewalk outside her new office, and would have looked very professional with her severe business skirt-suit, small glasses and blond hair done up in a bun at the back of her head. The effect was ruined by the way she awkwardly clutched a large, open-topped box of files and was begging one of the gray suited movers to "Please, be careful with that." even as she tripped on the curb, sending the box of papers flying into the same mover, who dropped his box with a loud 'crunch' right onto his foot.

Elegant bit of slapstick there. thought Solitaire, even as she asked the other woman she'd caught just before she'd hit the ground "You OK?"

Kat replied with "Yes, thank you and sorry. I'm a total klutz, always have been." Then with a look at Solitaire's clothes, added, "Nice costume, that's Solitude right?" Kat smiled, adjusted her glasses, then knelt down to pick up her scattered papers.

"It's Solitaire. Like the card game." Solitaire corrected, grinning enormously. This was too perfect. She eyed Kat critically, then her eyes moved to the door, which proclaimed 'Katherine Baker, Agent.' "Katherine Baker, I presume?"

"Yes, that's me." Katherine replied, not looking up and instead making a grab for a paper the wind had decided it liked.

"Your an agent?"

"Yes, well, hope to be really, I don't have any clients yet. But I'll make it to the big time!" She looked up, eyes brimming with such conviction and confidence that Solitaire quirked an eyebrow. Then turned and grabbed madly at a few more papers.

Solitaire crouched down next to her. "I like that, your hired."

"Hired? What do you mean."

"Exactly what I said." And Solitaire took off her left glove, exposing that odd energy that made up her arm.

Kats reply was a sort of strangled gurgling noise.

"Perhaps we should talk in your office?"
This message was last edited by the player at 21:23, Thu 06 Aug 2009.

Zero tried it's hardest to pretend it didn't want it's teammates in it's band. And failed. "Hmmmm... that's a hard offer. LetmethinkaboutitOK."

Imp flipped through the dossier of job offers.  Being a spokesman for renewable energy or save the pandas or world literacy was all well and good, but Fedex?  No way.  Imp fired off an email to Mike, telling him that he didn't really care about the money, that he'd only do gigs that he thought contributed something to the world, and to the enlightenment of humanity.  then he was off again, Utopia had quickly taken advantage of his ability to affect people through their TVs and it seemed like if they wanted a face it was either him or Geisha they called in.  He called Mike on his way to the broadcast room and told him to greenlight anything that would help out single moms or low income families.  There'd be rumors and jokes, but he could deal with those.
This message was last edited by the player at 11:01, Sun 09 Aug 2009.

The commercial was smooth.  A gleaming, soundless, emissionless marvel of steel and organic composite running on organic batteries.  The test-drive ended with a bold slogan. The Honda Impetus: Push Some Thresholds.

"Well that's cool.  Did Imp sign off on that?"

"I have no idea, but it's important we move on this.  Commercial money is easy money, and if you're so interested in green technology then you've got to get on this now."

"What?"

Laura tossed a file at Comstock.  "I got a call from Proton ... it's a Malaysian auto manufacturer ... and they were hoping to find a Nova to be the spokesperson for a thrust into the US market."

"Whoa whoa ... wait.  Stop.  You want me to do commercials for a ... a Malaysian company?  To sell cars here?"

Laura tapped a few buttons on her computer and brought a new article onto the screen.  A glowing, swarthy man with a black mustache was pictured next to a caption 'Parameswara to Champion Auto-Revolution.'  "Meet Parameswara.  Says it is his quest to liberate his homeland from the grasp of oil companies and mineral extraction, to bring Malaysia into the future.  He's an engineer.  Been meeting with Antaeus and a few of Utopia's tech analysts."

Dillon stared at the man.  "I think I met him at a dinner function."

"Well, he wants entry to the US market so he can curb the American demand for oil.  Give us better cars and thereby solve two problems at once.  There's a few lawsuits, usual protectionist tripe, but with Utopia's backing Proton will get to sell their cars wherever they please."

"So you want me to do a commercial for some Malaysian company?  Help them crush American jobs?"  The hostility and confusion in Dillon's voice reverberated through the room.

"Ugh."  Laura rubbed her temples.  "Let me put this in terms you can understand-"

"Look, I'm not stupid-"

"-you do this and the fund gets enough money for new computers at every Clark County school.  Or a new university.  Or that new monorail project you wanted to donate to the city.  This is a long term commitment with enormous financial potential."

Dillon frowned.  "But it's ... why not Ford or GMC ..."

"They're still producing trucks and SUVs and don't want a Nova spokesperson because it 'doesn't speak to their base'."  Laura used air-quotes to show how much she respected the idea.  "You want to push the future, this is the way to go.  The car's good.  You could get your friends to look over it if its too much for you."

Dillon frowned.  "I'll think it over."

"Clock's running on this.  I'll have to call people back tonight if you want to be first in line for this.  Things go well we get a vehicle named after you.  Things go bad and we get nothing for our trouble."

"I know ... I just ..."  Bullied and frustrated, Dillon let himself shut down.  Comstock stood like a statue, clearing his thoughts of sentiment.  Safe inside, he quickly browsed over the design for the car and the technical specifications.  The car was 100% recyclable and ran off of rechargeable fuel-cells.  There was even a small gasoline-generator option that could be used to recharge the batteries in the absence of plugs.  "Alright.  Tell them I'll do it if they'll have me.  But I want to meet Parameswara."

---

The deal went through.  Comstock even got a manufacturing plant for the new cars set up in Henderson that helped boost the economy of Southern Nevada.

Solitaire didn't do the big things, wasn't interested in making money, it was simply a tool, with no inherent value on its own. Oh, she still had plenty of it, that was sure, but not as much as one might think. Solitaire wasn't anybodies spokesperson, nobody's model, wasn't the champion of any causes. You would never catch her on television, begging you to help save the rainforests or polar bears. There were other people handling that, and it wasn't personal enough for her.

Some people at Utopia said she was missing the 'bigger picture'. They were right, and they were wrong at the same time. In reality, her 'bigger picture' was so large that others 'bigger picture' would have fit nicely in a corner. It was so vast, that the only way she could think to tackle it was one little piece at a time. It was a tapestry, each action a thread she wove into it, overlapping and interweaving with all the others.

The conclusion Solitaire had come to was that honestly, she didn't need to 'save' people. Protect them, yes, but that wasn't the same thing as 'save'. Not to her at any rate. People, she thought, would save themselves, if given the opportunity, and that was much harder to provide than simply smacking down a criminal or pulling them out of a burning building (though Solitaire did have a thing about saving people from burning buildings.)

So that's what she did. Humanity wouldn't grow stronger, wouldn't improve, if she solved all of its problems, it had to want to save itself. Solitaire simply gave people the hand they needed. Sometimes that meant a few thousand dollars to get a entrepreneur on his feet, sometimes a building or three renovated into half-way houses, or job-training with Nova-age tech. And sometimes all it needed was a few words of encouragement, just to let that person know somebody believed. All done anonymously of course, Kat was very good at that sort of thing, it turned out, was a natural with the smoke and mirrors that Solitaire was so bad at herself. Another success story, though whether or not she was any good at her 'official' job, Solitaire still wasn't sure.

Funnily enough, it wasn't as expensive as it sounded either, she never did all the work, just enough of a nudge to get them going. You had to want to succeed, had to want to climb the mountain and get to the top for yourself. All Solitaire did was give you some handholds.

Nobody thanked her, nobody knew what she did, though she thought her teammates might suspect, all her salary had to go somewhere after all. And that was the way she liked it.

The Globe
Dr. Zero is the cause of the Galatea Explosion!
The Globe's continuous research into the real origin of the space station that caused N-Day has been discovered! Photos & files have been recovered from a top secret NASA Project call "Project Dawn." The files in this folder are cryptic, referring to it's goals as the 'advancement in the development in the human genome,' a project photo clearly shows one of the head engineers of the project to be Project Utopia's own Dr. Zero! The masked scientist is named Dr. Hugo Von Zemeller, from Austria, and an exile of Nazi Germany. We have researched this name in that nation, and have uncovered a startling history... (continued on Page 9)

Saying goodbye

Sitting alone on her favorite hill, just biking range outside the Flagstaff town limits, Sara shouldered the few belongings she wanted to take with her to where ever Utopia would move her.  It was funny coming back home, even for a few hours.  Her room, her house, heck even her town just seemed so small now.  She always thought she belonged there, a small person with a small life and some small dreams, but not any more.  That she thought she would be carted off to be arrested or dissected when she blew up the school made her relieved she even could come back, but once she went inside, she knew nothing could be the same. She finally passed the 'no I'm not a complete psychopath' tests and was allowed to come back, but with her parents having heard God knows what about the fire, she just left a note saying she was okay.

1) Favorite clothes ('cause hospital gowns suck) - check
2) Favorite CD's - check
3) Stuffed bear her great grandmother made - check
4) A lighter (once a sign of temptation and freedom, now kept as more of a joke) - check

The monitor hummed to life. Almost as large as the 12ft tall wall behind it, the monitor dwarfed it's audience. "You guy's 'll love this." says the Dr. at the front of the table in front of it. Happy, jovial music, reminiscent of Leave it to Beaver played. A curtain opened and a puppet in Zero's likeness sprung up. "It's the Dr. Zero Happy Fun Hour!" said an exuberant speaker.

The Amargosa Charitable Foundation had a new building.  Ms. Richards had outdone herself embellishing it with hardwood furniture and nice things.  Idiot woman was wasting good money.  On the other hand, she'd followed orders and hired a green contractor, though.  Cisterns, heat-chimneys, the works.  A line of new, Utopia-designed solar panels rotated to follow the sun; supposedly the design put enough power back into the grid to support two elementary schools.

The elementary school: official unit of measurement for charitable acts and PR moves.  God Bless America.

"Good morning, Mr. Amargosa!"  The staff liked Comstock, and that was worth something.  He wasn't a mind-wiping powerhouse like Pax or Imp, but he was starting to wonder if they were just responding to some quantum power or just slavish celebrity-devotion.  He waved good morning back.  The niceties just weren't in him today.

"Gentlemen."  His 9:00am meeting was already underway, one of Laura Richards' hires doing her level best to schmooze a few developers that had a business proposal.  Dillon had a few bones to pick with his manager, but she always found a way to get the job done.  "Good morning.  What can I do for you?"

"Mr. Comstock!"  Strike one.  The shorter of the two businessmen reminded Dillon of nothing more than a big, brown toad.  In his fatigue, he labeled the man 'Toad' and went on.  His friend, a Mr. Schmidt, made a better impression, rising to shake Dillon's hand but not oozing smarm from the pores.  He could respect that.

"Laura tells me you've got something you want to talk to me about.  I'm going to get some coffee, if you don't mind, and how about you cut straight to telling me all about it."  He drank the burnt Folgers black, a forced habit that made people think he had very human tastes and preferences in food and morning routines.

"Of course."  Schmidt was definitely a little swifter on the uptake than Toad.  It took only about five minutes to review the full proposal.  When the two men finished, Dillon leaned back in his chair, thinking.

"So ... you want a Utopia themed amusement park."

"Opinion's swinging back for you guys now that all these new techs are hitting the market and the fighting's over.  And you'd be getting advertising and a chance to cut in on the act."

"I'm not exactly part of Utopia's marketing division.  Why are you here talking to me?

"It'd be local, Mr. Amargosa.  Right in your backyard.  The kind of thing that would directly interest you."

Some of Dillon's own team were world class liars.  These guys just didn't match up.  "You're hoping I'll pitch the idea for you and give you a leg up."  Toad squirmed, but Dillon really didn't have any strong desire to keep kids gloves on for this one.

"Actually, the park is a go, one way or another.  But, Mr. Amargosa, with your help getting official licensing this could be really big.  We were hoping to get actors to play you and the rest of T2M:America -- kids love you more than Mickey Mouse -- and that means licensing your images."  Toad found appropriate concept art and preliminary designs for what they had in mind.

That's Americas, you idiots.  We don't just represent the USA.  Still, he couldn't believe what he was seeing.  "A ... Dr. Zero amusement park ride."

"Michael Jackson had Captain EO.  Dr. Zero is an Op-Net celebrity."  The Toad was sweating.  Unable to regulate his own temperature and overdressed for the occasion.  Disgusting.  "The 5-8 demographic really loves his show."

"We were hoping that you would broach the issue with him ... uh ... it."

"Well why not just talk to him yourself?"

"Well ... Dr. Zero's a very complicated and busy man, so we thought that, given your respective positions ..."

"You want me to call rank on Zero and make him hear your pitch?"

"Oh, no!  Of course not, sir!  But, an introduction."

"First of all, let me say that you guys are missing the point big time.  Second of all, that's Zero's business and really not my thing.  Talk to his agent, he's a nice guy who could help you out.  Third of all, if you want me you've got to just get on the phone with Utopia and figure out what they want to do, since Team Tomorrow is their trademark or copyright or whatever and I'm not giving my face out to an amusement park except as leader of T2M, okay?"

"Mr. Amargosa-"

"Just Dillon, please."

"Dillon," Schmidt corrected, "I know that this isn't the normal avenue, but I need to know if you are at least interested.  And I'd like to know if Dr. Zero's interested or not.  If he'd like, we'd love to coordinate with your band and build a concert venue."

"Again, it's not my band.  I taught him a few cool voice tricks, that's it.  Couldn't carry a tune if I tried."

Schmidt frowned while Toad sweated some more.  "Ms. Richards told us that you'd be more receptive than this.  Are there any major problems-"

"No, I just can't give you a yes or no and I'm not going to fill up my schedule just to help you get in touch with Zero.  You'll have to talk to him straight."  He felt sorry for these two.  Their amusement park would be a money-making machine, but he couldn't decide if it would educate or help anyone out.  Even the money wasn't that good, since the firm backing the park wanted discounts.


---


After the men left, Dillon looked over the proposed ride/4-d movie experience.  He couldn't tell if this was good or bad camp, but the comparison to Captain EO was fairly apt.  Green Women, heroic space-ship rock-bands, the power of Quantum, moral and ethical lessons hidden in song, the works.  "Hey Zero ... you're not going to believe this..."

Team Tomorrow: Americas -- Major Marketing Deals, 2001-2003




- We've shunned Hasbro and Ford as a team so far.

- As she worked, she walked her new cat, Fluffy.  Rescued from abusive owners, the burned animal wasn't actually fluffy, which was the point of the name.  Fluffy was a nice cat, always happy to be loved.  And though it wasn't the reason she actually got him, it did help that he raised her popularity 3% (27% with animal rights groups), and increased her toy sales 1.5% (new bonus Fluffy toy included).

- Cereal boxes (organic), stay in school adds, t-shirts, car commercials, insurance policies (Quentin?)  Dildos and rubber vaginas from Japan (illegal).

---

Spoiler text: (Highlight or hover over the text to view)
Just a random, perhaps even useful tally of who is shilling for what on the team.  Let me know if I've missed anything or if anyone wants me to add something more.

---

"Sorry guys, but you're gonna have to increase my royalties if you want to keep me around.  I know Hot Topic has been good for me in the past, but there a lot of new franchises working to capture novas... Honestly, as nice as the checks have been, I've been as good or better for you, considering how few SUCCESFUL novas are signing with you, and all the other new clothing franchises that are taking over your market share...  Yeah, that sounds more like it... sure, I'm willing to do more photo shoots for you in exchange, that helps us both anyway.  I'll get my lawyer to send you the paperwork later today."

Phantasm tried to avoid letting other people do her work for her.  She was better at getting what she wanted than any agent ever would be, and it broke up the monotony of missions and training nicely.  With a little study and time she could probably even get the licensing she needed to do all the paperwork too, but that was a little more of a time drain than she really wanted to spend.  She'd rather watch tv, read on diverse topics, and pick up new languages than spend time studying the intricacies of law, and then meticulously typing contracts.

She texted her lawyer, telling him what she needed, basically the same contract but with the increased royalties and 7 more publicity events.  While she did that, she went over the intricacies of Thai language and culture in preparation for vacation, planned out her interview with Teen magazine later in the day, and went over some of the marketing agreements for her new perfume and makeup line (if Hannah Montana could make money off of it, she figured anybody could).

After business, that left just one thing to do.  Phantasm asked Slider or Grav (whichever one seemed less distracted) for a portal to Beverly Hills.  She spent the time before her interview looking around shops and not spending anything, taking in the people, the culture of the rich.  It was a long way from where she had come from, and it always helped put things into perspective.  She stopped by the Bank, and withdrew 10k from her account, then dropped by the post office, where she stuffed the money in a thick envelope, making sure her hands had their prints smoothed as she handled them.  The package went out to Detroit, Michigan, to Mary Lindsgold, with no return address.  Hope it helps, Mom.

Phantasm went to her interview after that, saying absolutely nothing of substance and knowing she would be loved for it.  People sucked sometimes.  After that she called for a 'port home, and spent the rest of the evening online, reading a few dozen books before bed.  Another aimless month down... maybe one day I'll figure out what the hell I want out of life...

It was a bit drafty in the soup kitchen, not cold, precisely, just a tad below comfortable. It had been deliberately calculated that way by the brown haired woman sitting at a corner table sipping coffee. The woman, who was on her break, and looked only a little like Solitaire wore a light brown turtleneck, blue jeans, and black leather gloves, they were nice, if inexpensive. Those clothes worn by the type of person who likes to look good, but has little to spend to make it happen. She gazed around the room through the steam rising from her coffee, vile beverage that it was. It was perhaps a mistake that Solitaire had decided 'Jennifer McKeon', this alias, drank it.

The furniture was simple, but functional, like the temperature, it was neither uncomfortable, nor inviting, and had been calculated to be so. It could have been lavish, but that didn't suit her purposes, there was no point to it. It was through struggle that one gained strength, and Solitaire was unwilling to deprive them of it. She believed firmly in 'just enough', she provided access to the first step, and sometimes a boot to the ass if that was what someone needed. But she wouldn't force anyone to better themselves. You had to want it. To want it badly enough to claw your way up the ladder, scrape your fingers ragged and bloody if that's what it took. That was how you became strong. That was how you survived.

Of course, there we're resources available to ease the transitions, they may not be easy to find or access, but that was another part of the test. Will could take you all the way, but resourcefulness could make it easier. The connections were there to find, for her web was spread all across the Northwest, Washington, Oregon, Northern California. It may be small now, but it grew with each person to pull themselves upward. Soup kitchens, shelters, job-training programs, small businesses, the odd housing complex, Solitaire looked after many of them. She owned some directly (by proxy), others simply a share, but it was always just enough. No more, no less.

'Jennifer McKeon' set her coffee mug down, and her fingers began to tap on the table, miming the motion of bridging cards. When she noticed the movement, she commanded them to stop. She pondered what her next move ought to be, a tech school perhaps? But where to place it... And who would she put in charge? It had to be one of 'her' people, and Solitaire idly wondered if anybody wanted to do something like that, she would make inquiries.
This message was last edited by the player at 02:07, Tue 17 Nov 2009.

Everybody called  him One Eyed Jack, for obvious reasons, his name was Jack, and he only had one eye. He'd lost it in one of many bar fights during his time as a marine in Vietnam, and now wore a patch. One Eyed Jack looked quite fierce, with his battered face and short, mostly trimmed beard, but like most appearances, it was deceiving. He was one of the kindest people Solitaire had ever met, and reminded him of her father in some ways. He was a massive, bear of a man, and despite his age there was something quite formidable about him.

"Aw, Jen, you made it." He rumbled in his deep voice. "Good thing too, we're always short handed."

That bit of it wasn't calculated, but it worked well enough anyway, there was no reason to go easier on her volunteers.

"Of course Jack, you know I like to check in when I can. Is there anything you need while I'm here?"

The 'Jennifer' persona technically owned the place, paying for it out of a moderate inheritance and using it for research purposes for her sociology degree at the nearby university, but she left it in Jacks care most of the time. He was one of her success stories, though he didn't know it. He'd lived a hard life, it had made him strong, capable, determined. To be honest, Solitaire thought he could go so much higher than he was now. But he'd elected to stay where he was, she respected that. Homeless more often than not since he'd come back from 'Nam, Jack both knew exactly what those the place server were going though, and was an exceptional scrounger, which was good, because keeping the place running required all of his considerable talent. All he'd needed was a hand to help him up after all the times the world had kicked his feet out from under him, he could stand on his own.

"'Eater's on the fritz again, as usual, King took a look at it, but she couldn' find the problem." Jack replied, and both of them looked over at the closet that housed the furnace, it coughed and rattled as if to emphasize his point. Nobody, including Laura King, the resident handy-woman had ever found the problem.

Laura King was an interesting case, Solitaire was withholding judgment on her for the moment. Some people called her 'Suicide' King, due to her many attempts to kill herself, none of which had yet succeeded, but nobody around here. The last person to do so had got himself bodily thrown out by Jack, these people were a tight knit little community, and though Solitaire tried to subtly encourage this, she was unsure how common the trend might be other places. She was getting better, but the process was slow, and she still carried a palpable aura of despair around with her, but given time, and a goal to work toward, Solitaire thought she would make it.

"I'll see if I can get somebody down to look at it again." Solitaire said wistfully, as if she was tired of the problem as well. "I do hope its not serious, I can't afford to replace it, I'm barely making tuition as is."

"What ye can do is enough, Jen, ye pay the bills already, we'll get by, we always do."

"I know Jack, I just wish I could do more." She did, she really did. The painful part was that she could. It would be so easy, trivial even, to do more, but it wasn't what these people needed.

"I know you do." He said, and the way he smiled at her, completely trustingly, unaware of the necessary deceptions, broke her heart.
This message was last edited by the player at 05:27, Wed 09 Dec 2009.

Hello, I'm Katy Jones, and this is N! News.  we are proud to bring you a fascinating account of novas, brain damage and psyche altering quantum abilities.  In our first installment, we're taking a look at a man you all know, Utopia's PR man, Impetus.
Unless you've been living under a rock, or have been adrift at sea, for the last two years, you know the face of Utopia: Impetus.  His perfect smile and heart melting eyes have graced more magazine covers, commercials, and billboards than any other living person, and he seems to have the unique power to imprint any media containing his image with the full force of his supercharged sex appeal and sledgehammerlike charisma.  The docs at Utopia talk about quantum resonance, but I'm sure even they are at a loss to explain how a picture taken last year can still make any woman, and even a few men, swoon like, well, 16 year old girls.
This phenomenon, first noticed a year ago, has continued unabated save for one instance, the time of the Rio disaster.  Now, hundreds and thousands of people are claiming that the man they saw on TV during the rescue efforts was not Impetus.  He was a person who looked exactly like Impetus, talked like Impetus, but was not Impetus.  Utopia, rescue workers ,and reporters who were on site have confirmed that it was indeed Utopia's golden boy, but many people in the world are convinced that it was not he.
Researchers in England have posited an answer to this strange phenomenon--it seems that there has been one known case where a man was in a car crash and suffered brain damage, then failed to get any emotional response when he saw people's faces.  His mother, his father, his ex fiancee, all were seen but not felt.  This exact same phenomenon occurs whenever nova watchers see footage of Impetus from either over a year ago, or from the week when he was in Rio.
Some scientists speculate that Impetus was so drained by working the rescue effort that he no longer carried enough of a quantum charge to create these resonances, but this remains pure speculation.  Stay tuned for more investigations into how novas can reach out and alter our very brains without our ever knowing.
This message was last edited by the player at 11:32, Wed 10 Mar 2010.

The House of Cards is Solitaire's pet name for collective 'projects'. It has branches, or 'tables' all along the west coast and its membership consists of her successes. They are, as a whole, a group of highly competent and motivated people, having clawed their way up societies ladder one rung at a time. Most of them are possessed of a strong sense of something not unlike Noblesse Oblige and are quite protective of their respective 'tables'. Solitaire's eventual goal is that the House of Cards will support and sustain itself without her interference, with each member supporting and nurturing others in the same way they themselves were.

The idea arose from two of Solitaire's core beliefs, which, are somewhat contradictory. The first is that Solitaire believes that Project Utopia and Team Tomorrow, as they exist at present, are only a good idea in the short term. Each problem solved by a Nova, each challenge surmounted, each crisis averted, strengthens only the Nova in question. In the long term, humanity as a whole would become dependent on Nova's, unable to do anything for themselves, after all, why bother, Nova's did it so much better. This, in Solitaire's opinion, would be unacceptable, de facto Nova servitude to a humanity that was not worth it.

The second is simple, and idea isn't really the right word, its more a feeling. Solitaire loves humanity, and wants to see it succeed. She views it as both a parent and a child, something to be looked after, something to be nurtured. Where she came from and what she will leave. She knows Earth will not be her home forever, the planet is too small, the universe too wide and her power too great for that. What would people do when she and all the other Nova's left? She could see the exodus coming, when each of the quantum gods would realize the shackles that bound them to Earth were entirely of their own making, and leave to stake out a claim of their own in the vastness of space. If humanity was unable to adapt and cope to their absence, they would backslide into chaos. Ignorance and sloth were terrible things. For this reason, Solitaire decided to make them strong, make them responsible, make them motivated.

After all, Their Legacy is our future...

The House of Cards is a rather loose organization, each 'table' is independent of the others, but they know of each other and cooperate when needed. Generally there is only one 'table' per city, though larger ones might have two or even three. Each 'table' is responsible for overseeing its own sphere of influence, feeding the homeless, offering employment or job training, and keeping an eye out for those who are worthy of being 'seated at the table'.

The table is comprised of those who have proven their will and ability to succeed and who wish to foster the same qualities in others. Members are collectively called 'Cards'. There are two ranks, the junior members are called 'Knaves' or 'Jacks' depending on the table, and are the functionaries of the table, carrying out the day to day business and handling logistical problems. The collective will of the Jacks counts as one vote in 'Court'. The senior members are the 'Kings' and 'Queens' and are equal in rank. The Kings and Queens decide general policy and handle anything too important for a Jack. Generally, there are two Kings and Two Queens, though this is not insisted upon. There are however, only 4 Royals per table, each with a vote on any matter 'brought to court' (the 5th belonging to the Jacks Council). The leader of each table is the 'Ace', the first-among-equals of the Royals.

Potential members are called the 'deck', and are rated on a scale of two to ten depending on their contributions to the community. Simple good works are not enough, however. One must be motivated, willing to work to succeed, willing to take others with her on the journey upward. The abilities looked for vary slightly from table to table, depending on membership and which 'suite' is ascendant at the moment.

Suites are a way for members to identify their specific priorities to other 'cards'. 'Clubs' are those with a social bent, focused on fostering community and goodwill. 'Diamonds' are focused on monetary issues, helping people make ends meet, finding the money to pay for the shelters, food banks and programs. 'Spades' are those that focus on helping people find jobs, whether that involves training, an offer of employment, or search functions. There are only two 'Hearts' Solitaire herself and Kat Baker. A request from either Heart is regarded as nigh unto a direct command from god by most Cards.
This message was last edited by the player at 02:07, Sat 20 Mar 2010.

Oprah: ...And we're back from break, talking with the esteemed Dr. Phil about the negative influence nova physical perfection has on a public that admires, but can never live up to, the nova ideal.  Dr. Phil, you were saying...

Phil: Yes Oprah, I find it disturbing, really disturbing, seeing people trying to live up to these impossible standards.  I mean, what message are we sending to people?  And even worse are the kids Oprah, they're growing up thinking that the images they see on TV are an appropriate standard by which to judge each other, and that's just plain wrong.  It's a recipe for disappointment, low self-esteem, and depression-

Raoul: I must cut in now Oprah.  I actually agree with Phil here, non-novas should not compare themselves to us, this is true.  They can never be what we are.  But it must be stated that the "perfection" he speaks of is a creation of your media, not a reflection of nova sentiment. Many novas diverge markedly from human physiology; some, such as my good friend Geryon or some of the more notable members of the XWF, would likely offend the delicate sensibilities of any humans lucky enough to meet them in person-

Phil: I must respectfully disagree Mr. Orzaiz.  Those novas are the exception, not the rule.  And the major nova organizations are more than happy to plaster their pretiest members all over the TV and net in hopes of drawing in public support.  Utopia, the various religious organizations... even your Terragen, despite it's separatist ideals has you as its spokesman.  And the media focuses on these individuals to the exclusion of all else, providing a distorted image of-

Raoul: What of the Columbia veterans then?  The nuclear burns left permanent maks on them; Gravitas, Pax, even Impetus all bear scars from that conflict.  They aren't exactly flawless ideals of beauty now, yet they are all over your media, yes?  Bah!  You see only what you wish to see, as does the rest of humanity; Novas are more than just marble statues of human desire, we are our own people.  But humanity latches onto what it desires most, those that embody its biased ideals of beauty-

Oprah: We are going to commercial again, but when we come back our special guest from Team Tomorrow will weigh in on the issue...

"I'm a Mac."

The camera cuts to a Pabst Blue Ribbon drinking, Parliament cigarette smoking hipster.  He waves and adjusts his scarf.

"And I'm a PC."

The camera cuts again to a stereotypical suit.  He adjusts his glasses.

"And I'm a Kraken Heavy Industries Power Obelisk."

The camera cuts once more to a 12 foot tall prism of seamless black obsidian, filmed from far below.  Strauss' Also sprach Zarathustra, Opus 30 plays.  Then the prism deploys a pair of flamethrowers and incinerates both the hipster and the suit.  Hell Kraken, garbed in his trademarked Teflon, steps over the ash piles and rests a hand on the Power Obelisk.  The camera zooms in on the black swirl of his face plate.

"Get a Power Obelisk."

It's not a request.
This message was last edited by the player at 08:02, Sat 05 Feb 2011.

"It's the Kraken Heavy Industries Happy Time Fun Hour with your host, me!  Chuckles the Clown!  A-hyuk-hyuk-hyuk!"

My God, the voice of Chuckles the Clown was grating.  He wasn't even a real clown, just a puppet.  Still, the children seemed to love the damned thing and it had proven surprisingly difficult to find a real clown that was simultaneously sober and not possessed of a felony conviction that required him to go around the neighborhood introducing himself to parents.  Besides, what sort of child doesn't like clowns?

The green light offstage came on indicating it was time for Wilhelm to tromp onstage.  He pulled a cardigan on over his massive Teflon torso and obeyed.  A small, male child actor was hiding in one corner of the set.

"And now for a special message from your Uncle Kraken!  A-hyuk-hyuk-hyuk!"

"Tell me little Jimmy, why do you cower in fear of your Power Obelisk?"

"Auntie Blake says it's full of pewtonium and it's gonna kill us all!"

"A-ha-ha!  Silly child!  Nothing could be further from the truth.  Mere plutonium couldn't produce nearly enough power to support your Power Obelisk.  If you'd made sure to watch last week's 'Romping with Radioisotopes' segment you would have known that.  No, Kraken Heavy Industries only uses ordinary, every day polonium recycled from reactor waste in the generators that power its products.  It's safe and ecologically conscious!"

"Ecowogicwy?"

"It means it's good for the planet, little Jimmy.  And just think how fast it will render your new games!  Now run along you little scamp!"
This message was last edited by the player at 10:07, Sat 12 Feb 2011.

Posting this here since it seemed most appropriate.  Any questions or comments we can talk in OOC or PM.

So, just explaining P's current direction.  Something that always bothered me about all the conspiracy stuff in the Aberrant setting was how these beings with godly mental abilities didn't catch on until it's too late.  I wanted to change that a little.  I don't plan on "solving" all the stuff going on, or even on realizing the full scope of it, but it always seemed like all these mega-insightful novas should have at least a bit of an idea regarding what was happening in the setting.

I figure that the conspirators can trick a lot of the novas with a single really high stat, or just one area really high.  Grav for example might get pulled in, just because he's often more interested in research than politics, and because while he's super smart, he isn't all that manipulative.  Vice versa for Impetus.  But Phantasm has the wits to process it all, the intelligence to catch it, and the manipulation to see how everyone's getting played.

I figure she doesn't have any real proof, or even many of the pieces; she's just really paranoid right now and sees that the world will blow up eventually when all the nova stuff comes to a head.  She also doesn't have anyone to really share her suspicions with, or even know who she can trust.  She isn't part of the little Mars Club (Grav', 'Stock, Imp' and Zero), so she doesn't know much about the nova breeding issues, and isn't aware that they've already started to suspect weirdness with Utopia.

So right now she's just trying to feel out whether she's right, and if so, to get people on her side.  All of this kind of stems from her first nova encounter at her eruption (it made her very personally aware of problems caused by novas, and the way monsters can hide in the shadows) and her own soul searching to find a way to matter.  This gives her a mission, and a way of dealing with her own sins.

I think i just got called a mimbo...
Anyways, yeah, P is one of the people that Imp would be willing to share his findings about nova sterility and his dreams of the old woman saying the drugs weren't working while she kidnapped his daughter.  If you want a conspiracy buddy, Imp's in.

It's ok Imp, you're still smarter than the average baseline... :)

And hell yeah I want a conspiracy.  Imp and P' must talk...

Listings for Friday 03/11

...
10743 Christian Broadcasting Network (CBN)   The 700 Club              700 Club Hoy                  CBN Newswatch
10744 Kraken News Net (KNN)                  Studio K                  Your World with Hell Kraken   The Hell Kraken                                                                                                                  Factor
10745 Kraken Kids (KKIDS)                    The Happy Time Fun Hour   Uncle Kraken's Neighborhood   Howdy Doody
10746 Kraken Science (KSCI)                  Robot Melee               How It's Made by Robots       Dirty Robot Jobs
10747 Kraken Music Television (KMTV)         KMTV Classical            KMTV No Wave                  KMTV Experimental
10748 Discrete Entertainment (XXXDE)         MegaThrust Rocks Your World 18        Hagane no Otoko wa, Tisshu no Josei                                                                                                    (Komusutokku o Tōsai)
...

"15000 channels and nothing to watch.  What should I put on?"

"Anything but the Kraken News Net.  I don't care that it's fair and balanced, I just can't trust any network that has the same presenter on all its shows.  Doesn't this Hell Kraken character, now there's a name, ever sleep?"

"It's all done with computers now Honey.  Robot Melee?"

"You and your melee this and carnage that..."

*CLICK*

"Any day we create that much shrapnel is a good day."

A single, scarred killbot rolls off a heavily cratered desert landscape.  Those in the know could place the scene at Yucca Flat in the Nevada desert based on the background, still the most nuclear-blasted spot on Earth, but now a lot less irradiating.  The show's two hosts, one in a white shirt and beret, the other in a fireman's jacket and cowboy hat, pace toward the bot, pointing out particularly interesting bits of shrapnel along the way.

"Didn't they host LegendBreakers, or whatever the name was, a few years back?"

"It got a lot less interesting after they hired the nova that could change the rules of physics."

"How many of you have ever seen a killbot... naked?"

...

"So it's just robots destroying each other?  There's no novas involved at all?  Why don't you just put the XWF fight on?  At least that's got celebrities."

*CLICK*
This message was last edited by the player at 08:51, Fri 15 Apr 2011.

NHK Newsline (co-broadcast on DW-TV4, CBC-3, Arirang-1, and N! Asia)
April 6th, 2005

"Next on Newsline, a report from Kitagawa Yūko on location at the inaugural International Consumer Electronics Show in Akihabara.  Yūko?"

The camera panned over the expected sights of skyscrapers and all-pervasive neon signage as the usual introductory narration was delivered.  Covered stalls filled the streets between the buildings, each sporting a a large sign, copious neon and LED lighting, and a smattering of dancing girls.  Tokyo got a lot more spacious once they moved all of the cars off the streets and up onto the city's new network of flyovers.  Yūko made the rounds of the major stalls, talking to representatives from Canon, NEC, and Nikon.  Notably absent was any representative from ViaSoft.  Eventually the KHI stall was reached.  The sounds of a Japanese prog rock cover band blared out from a massive speaker stack, Interstellar Overdrive grading into 21st Century Schizoid Man.  The band was good, if unhealthily loud.  Go-go dancers in white, vinyl thigh-high boots, halter tops, and miniskirts so short they might as well be belts gyrated suggestively around KHI's newest product offerings.  Stepping underneath a downward pointing parabolic dish, all of the noise disappeared, allowing Yūko to easily interview the Teflon Giant in peace.  The two exchanged pleasantries in Japanese before returning to the English that characterized NHK's world programming and getting down to business.  With the Kraken's synthesized voice, it was impossible to tell whether he actually knew the language or whether the suit just automatically translated, but the gesture probably went over well with the channel's more traditionalist viewers.

"...and KHI is doing a lot of very interesting things with mobile computing these days.  We're here to see their new model.  The Menhir, right?"

"Absolutely correct.  The unlocked version will be going on sale here in Japan in two weeks on the Matsushita network with the locked version for the US and EU countries available in a few months."

By virtue of a loophole in Japanese law, the Menhir was classified as a portable computer, not a cell phone, allowing it to escape a wide range of Utopia OpNet regulations, in Japan at least.  As a result, the Japanese version came pre-loaded with Krakware Linux, the tentacled penguin logo of which was altogether disturbing, though it went over well in Japan.  The Japanese authorities certainly didn't seem to be in any hurry to close the loophole.  At a gesture, one of the new Nexus-series androids presenting the phones to the public brought a display model over.  The early Nexus models had been a bit too Uncanny Valley to win over the public, but the only thing uncanny about the latest models was how closely they replicated Rutger Hauer.  It was amazing what 176 independent facial actuators could do.  Taking up the display model, a featureless slab of aluminum, the Kraken gave it a shake and a panel on one side of the thing disappeared, revealing a touchscreen.

"As you know, KHI phones have always just had twelve buttons because we weren't certain that touchscreens could withstand the rigorous trials that we put all of our products through.  We think we've solved the problem.  Go ahead, try to scratch it."

Placing the phone on a table, the Kraken handed Yūko an awl and she gamely went to town on the screen, to no avail.

"Amazing!"

"Transparent alumina that is.  A byproduct of our rocket development subsidiary.  It ought to stand up to anything you can throw at it.  In fact, we've got a pen over there where you can test it out against the competition."

Turning, the Kraken pointed to a section of the street fenced off with slabs of Lexan where goggle-clad children gleefully smashed iOptimizes with mallets.

"But one cannot mercilessly crush the opposition with reliability alone.  For that you need power.  So the Menhir comes with our new six-core processor, a full-360 OpNet connection, our new, sub-miniaturized polonium generator, and this..."

The Kraken shook the phone in a different fashion than before and another panel disappeared, revealing a giant-sized camera sensor.

"...the first full-frame CCD camera in a phone.  It's an 18 megapixel LOMO unit, sensitive to everything from thermal all the way up to UV.  You can even attach SLR lenses.  Here, take a look."

The Kraken pushed on the touchscreen to activate the motion picture mode and pointed the phone at the go-go dancers.  Yūko took on an expression of shock mixed with the slightest amount of titillation.

"But...they're naked!  It sees through clothing!?"

"A side effect of the sensitivity of the sensor.  There's a filter to protect the children.  Besides, cameras of this sort have been widely available for more than a decade.  Honestly, if you go out in public in non-metal lined clothing you're asking to have candid snaps taken of you."

After a moment, Yūko regained her reporter's composure enough to continue the interview with an inquiry into KHI's present anti-trust troubles.

"Pure FUD, probably spread by ViaSoft to hide the paucity of their product lineup.  If a man doesn't have the right to the products of his own two hands, what does he have the right to?  It really is disgraceful what ViaSoft is allowed to get away with.  First rampant industrial espionage and now this.  Why, just the other month we had an armed probe into our Las Vegas facility.  Fortunately no staff were hurt, but the perpetrators caused millions of dollars in property damage, almost caused an ecological catastrophe, and absconded with who knows how many trade secrets."

Sure the statement might be defamation, but with his ties to the keiretsu, the Kraken was reasonably certain that any prosecutions here wouldn't go anywhere.  Besides, he'd never actually said that ViaSoft was behind the invasion of his Las Vegas facility, merely implied it.

"That's part of the reason I'm here in Japan, for talks with Yoshida-san and Miyamoto-san at Sony regarding our common problem of ViaSoft thuggery, as well as ways we might expand our co-distribution arrangements.  ...  I must say, I do like your pleasant country.  It certainly seems to be on a more correct track than that followed by anti-worker, anti-business President Brown in the US.  The President's devotion to ever-increasing campaign donations from a mere handful of contributors over the good of the nation as a whole continually puzzles me."
This message was last edited by the player at 10:14, Mon 27 June 2011.

Recorded Phone conversation:

Male Voice (digitally altered): "I can't believe what you said was true. The Quacks confirmed it. This is just amazing. The potential here is nearly unlimited."

Synthesized Voice: "I take it you are happy with the 'merchandize'?"

Male Voice: "Indeed. This is quite an asset you have handed to me. I must ask, why are you trusting me with it? If you'll forgive me, you're sudden... extreme generosity is far too good to be true."

Synthesized Voice: "I'm glad you noticed. I need a sharp partner on this."

"I'll get to the point. The 'merchandize' is quite high profile. You're the only one with little to lose but a everything to gain. You also have a rare set of qualities. You're smart, practical, and under-appreciated by the superiors above you who don't want to give you a shot. They're only in charge because they wisely monopolized and dug in before the recent shakeups."

"You're smart enough not to crap where you eat, either, and that's sadly rare in your line of work lately. You've also shown a curious habit of keeping most of your word in the past, so I'm willing to place a bet on you."

Male Voice: "I'm quite flattered, but I'm sure you want more out of this. Should we meet in person to hash out the details?"

Synthesized Voice: "Yes. Same spot as before. One hour latter then last time. My requests are simple."

Male Voice: "I'm skeptical on that particular part, but I'm sure something can be worked out. We are both people of business, after all."
This message was last edited by the player at 01:35, Tue 19 July 2011.