VELVETEEN vs. Gainful Employment #4
“No, you don’t. A superhero who’s working all the time is a superhero who’s not taking care of themselves.
They’re not eating, sleeping, or hydrating, and they’re substantially more likely to snap and change sides.
We all need therapy. There’s not a single person running around in spandex who doesn’t.
Avoiding lean staffing and letting us have communities prevents us from having mental breakdowns and nervous disorders.
Would you rather have three stable superheroes with time for hobbies and doing their own laundry, or one high-strung prima donna who doesn’t sleep and probably has a cocaine problem? ”
The man made another note and looked halfway amused for the first time. “You’ve been working on that speech for a while now.”
“I’ve seen this business eat a lot of good friends whole, and spit out their bones,” she replied. “Yeah, you could say I’ve done some thinking about the ethics of the way we do our jobs.”
“Do you intend to remain in Portland this time, rather than running off at the first opportunity?”
Vel stared at him, doing her best not to bristle. It wasn’t easy. “I told you, I was on medical leave.”
“According to my information, you were touring the, ah, ‘Seasonal Lands,’ a group of alternate dimensions whose existence has not yet been verified,” said the man.
“I was keeping the promise I made to Santa Claus when he returned the governor’s deceased sister to life in this dimension,” said Vel.
She paused. “It sounds so ridiculous when I put it like that, but it’s what happened.
You can call Governor Morgan if you need to verify what I’m saying. She knows what happened.”
“Mmm.” He made another note on his paper. “Is this the part where you threaten me with the ‘Naughty List’ if you don’t get your way?”
“No,” she said, as calmly as she could. “Santa and I aren’t exactly on what I’d call good terms right now. I don’t have the ability to get anyone reclassified.”
The man looked up from his paper, making eye contact for the first time as he stared at her. Vel raised an eyebrow, and didn’t say a word. Civil servant met superhero trained for stakeouts, and neither of them seemed inclined to flinch.
After several minutes had passed without a word between them, the man sighed. “I’m sure you can see the difficulty of recording ‘subject has a stated feud with Santa Claus’ in your official paperwork.”
“And I’m sure you can see why I’m a little confused by what’s going on right now,” Vel replied. “I’ve already been vetted and licensed by the state. I took a medical leave, which I’m allowed to do under the standard heroism contract, and now I’m back. What, exactly, is the purpose of this review?”
“Officially? Determining your mental stability, and whether the medical leave under discussion was taken under false pretenses. It’s not like we can prove you went to another dimension.
If you did, it could be a sign of psychological breakdown, and we don’t want an unstable heroine patrolling the city. ”
“Okay, so first, that’s pretty ableist. A lot of people with mental illnesses can hold stressful positions and do excellent jobs.
I know several working heroes who are medicated for various things, and like I said before, basically anyone who goes out to fight crime the way we do needs a good therapist,” snapped Vel.
“And second, you can absolutely prove I went to another dimension. Ask the governor. Better yet, ask Jacqueline Claus. You know, Santa’s daughter, and my known associate?
Her existence implies his, which means he must be somewhere, which confirms the existence of the dimension I say I traveled to. ”
“I—”
“You know where else I went while I was away?” Vel smiled, and her expression was suddenly dangerous, a reminder that even foxes don’t follow large rabbits into their dens.
A cornered rabbit is as dangerous as any predator.
“I went to Spring, and a literal goddess who used to be an animus taught me how to feel the channels of my own energy.”
“I fail to see the relevance.”
“You have a mid-tier empath manning the front desk; you really think I wouldn’t notice that she wasn’t the only superhuman in the building?
” Vel shook her head, making the motion slow and exaggerated.
“I know when something’s draining me. I’m attuned to it, you might say.
And something’s been trying to drain me dry since I stepped into this room.
Either it’s the room, or it’s you, and either way, I’d like it to stop now, please. ”
The man blinked. The strange exhaustion that had settled over Vel as soon as she sat down lifted, leaving her more awake, more alert, and—most importantly—substantially more annoyed.
“Thank you,” she said, curtly. “Now, what the actual fuck do you think you’re doing?”
“Verifying that you’re not a danger to yourself or to the city,” he said. “It’s standard practice after a lengthy time outside the dimension.”
“So you believe me?”
“Of course we believe you. Your references are impeccable, and your story has been consistent from the start. But we needed to be sure you wouldn’t start killing people if pressed, and to know how deep your power reserves actually went.
” He smiled, thinly. “Public confidence in the animus power class is at an all-time low.”
“Public confidence in the animus power class was nonexistent a year ago,” snapped Vel.
“Where was the public confidence when Supermodel was killing every animus in my generation? Where was the oversight then? I don’t much care what public confidence says, because it helped create this whole fucked-up situation to begin with. ”
“That may be so,” he said, and made another note on his paper. “Regardless, we were asked by forces higher than the governor of Oregon to verify your status, and we’ve done precisely that. The energies I pulled from you were untainted, uncomplicated, and your own.”
“About that,” said Vel. “Who are you?”
“They called me Recession when I still did your job, and I’m an energy manipulator, of a classification closer to empath than animus,” he said, as if this were something calm and understandable.
“I eat energy. I don’t reanimate things or put the energy back, I just take it away. I took yours away. It’ll grow back.”
Vel narrowed her eyes. “I didn’t agree to that.”
“But you did. The sign you passed coming in here, the one that said no weapons or hostile use of powers, it also included assent to having your own energies removed and analyzed by members of the staff. They were, they have been, and you’re free to resume your heroic duties.
” Recession paused, and smirked. “You might want to take a nap, first.”
“I just met you, but I already hate you.”
“Ah. Well.” He stood, taking his papers with him. “That’s life in the civil service. Thank you for your time, Miss Martinez.”
Vel glared. She stood so fast she nearly knocked her chair over, grabbing it at the last moment and setting it upright as she continued to glare at him. “Fuck you,” she said, in a perfectly genial tone.
“I get that a lot, too,” he said, and watched as she stormed out of the room.
She didn’t look back.
* * *
After Velveteen was gone, Recession emerged from the back and moved to stand near Exposé’s desk, watching her type for almost a full minute before he cleared his throat for her attention. She looked up.
“Well? How did it go? She looked pretty pissed when she stormed out of here.”
“She’s going to be trouble,” he said.
“We already knew that.”
“And now it’s been confirmed. I’m going to go file my report. Coffee after work?”
Exposé nodded. “Coffee sounds great.”
Outside, in the grand tradition of Portland, it began to rain.