VELVETEEN PRESENTS THE PRINCESS vs. The Congressional Committee for Superhuman Oversight #4
“Doesn’t seem to be.” The Princess shrugged.
“Maybe they bridge the gap between the normal and magical heroes. I don’t know.
World seems pretty content as long as it has a princess, after all, so you could argue that my power comes from a singular pool, and just isn’t shared out in the same way the animus powers are.
But you kill one flying brick, the others stay the same, they don’t get stronger by the volume of the brick’s power.
So if any of the other pools are shared, we don’t know about it, and won’t if there’s enough focus on superhuman mental health to stop another Supermodel from rising. ”
“Miss Miller, you came here today to testify against the need for an Animus Registration Act. So far, you’re provided just as many reasons that we should start registering them.”
“I haven’t either,” she said. “If you think I have, it’s because you don’t want to listen to me, because you’ve already gone and half made up your minds. I thought the purpose of having a committee was so you could entertain new information, learn new things. Not make a horrible mistake.”
“How is protecting American lives a horrible mistake?”
“We are at a unique turning point right now,” she said, leaning into her microphone.
“The Super Patriots, Inc. still exists, but has been severely curtailed, and doesn’t have the kind of power they’re accustomed to slinging around.
Right now, children with superpowers are emerging, the same as they always do, but there’s not a ‘friendly’ corporation at the door before the dust can settle.
They’re staying with their families. Which is wonderful—they deserve to stay with their families—and terrible at the same time, because a superpowered child is capable of so much destruction.
We need systems in place to help these kids without exploiting them.
Don’t any of you have superhumans in the family? ”
One of the men looked uncomfortable as he leaned forward and said, “My nephew. He can talk to plants.”
“Any kind of plant, or just specific ones?”
“Any sort of plant.” The other committee members looked at him, askance. He looked down at his microphone. “He’s eleven.”
“All right.” The Princess looked unflinchingly at the man.
“Right now, plant communication and control are their own power category. But how easy would it be for a committee like this one to decide that because they involve the control of living things, they’re actually a sub-class of animus?
There’s only one animus hero in the whole damn world right now, and no one else can tell you for sure whether someone’s tapping that pool of theirs.
So people decide she’s not trustworthy, or she’s not around to ask, and suddenly your nephew is an animus on paper, subject to every control you’re threatening here. ”
“What would you propose, Miss Miller?” asked the chairman.
“Help those families. Help parents whose children show signs of powers to care for them and keep them safe. Because otherwise, you’re going to find out how fast every type of hero can be reclassified to turn them into weapons. And you’re not going to like that discovery.”
“Do you know of any animus heroes apart from Velveteen currently active within the United States?”
“I do not,” said the Princess, serenely.
“I know of one animus currently deceased and in suspended animation while he waits for true love’s kiss; all the others are just plain dead, thanks to Supermodel.
And Vel won’t stay a nuclear bomb in a leotard forever; as soon as the next generation gets born without being seized by some government program and tossed into harm’s way, she’s going to get less scary. You just gotta wait it out.”
“And how do you propose we ‘wait out’ a woman you describe accurately as a nuclear bomb in a leotard? What stops her from deciding she doesn’t like the way we’re running things any more than she liked the way Supermodel was running them?”
“Not forcing children into indentured servitude would be a good start on not making her think you need to be replaced,” said the Princess, mildly.
“Please be serious, Miss Miller.”
“I am being serious. Actually, you know—not passing over-reaching legislation on the back of public fear when you know it won’t apply long enough to do anything but ruin a whole lot of lives would also be a good place to start.
Vel’s a simple girl. She wants to patrol her city, wear sweatpants, and put her life back together, and she wants her friends to be safe.
She needs the time to figure out how she feels about true love, ’cause I don’t want a corpse in my foyer forever, and you’re threatening to take that away from her.
I’m here to ask you to reconsider before you make a terrible mistake, and drive her to respond.
Which you would then need to respond to, and she’d respond, and you’d respond, and next thing you know, it’s a damn war.
We don’t need one of those. We need time to heal and recover.
So please. Take a breath, and withdraw the proposed legislation. ”
“Thank you, Miss Miller,” said the chairman. “That will be all.”
The Princess rose gracefully and turned to exit, accompanied by her woodland entourage. She was almost to the door when one of the congressmen spoke, saying, “Why do you argue so hard for a power set that doesn’t include you?”
“Bless your heart,” said the Princess, stopping where she was and looking over her shoulder.
She didn’t have a microphone anymore, but every word carried perfectly.
When a fairy tale princess speaks, the story listens.
“I do it because the children are my responsibility, and in half a heartbeat, they’re going to outnumber that poor girl you don’t want to leave alone.
But also because y’all have decided the animus heroes are a threat.
It’s not even that you might come after me next.
It’s that if you want to be that bone-stupid, I ought to cut you off before you hurt yourselves. ”
With that said, she turned and walked out of the chamber, leaving a silent committee behind.
* * *
It wasn’t much of a shock to find the page from before waiting in the hall.
It was a bit more surprising to find him waiting in a black spandex suit with a large red MR. on the chest, but it wasn’t the strangest thing she’d seen that day, and so she barely blinked before she stopped and crossed her arms. “Now who are you supposed to be?” she asked.
“Stop, criminal, and face the wrath of Man Rea,” said the page, the air around him crackling with power.
The Princess blinked. “Is that meant to be a play on ‘in mens rea’? Because honey, I think you’re butchering that Latin so badly they’re gonna have to turn it into dog food. Were all the good code names taken that day?”
“I—don’t try to confuse me! You’re the one about to be on trial here, not me!”
“All right, I’ll bite. What’s my crime today?”
Man Rea fumbled for a moment, trying to formulate his accusation. “Tax evasion.”
“Sorry, no. I have a very good accountant who makes sure my paperwork’s in order.”
“Harboring an illegal animus.”
“She ain’t illegal yet.”
“Female imp—”
“Sugar, there ain’t enough medical care in this city for what’s going to happen to you if you finish that sentence.”
“—personation,” he said.
The Princess sighed. “You just had to go there, didn’t you? All right, then.” She began to whistle, a long, warbling note that could easily build into something orchestral.
And the rats came.
* * *
The dress shop looked like it had also been the target of a pitched battle as the Princess stepped back inside, finding herself accosted almost immediately by giddy, fast-talking sales staff.
“—was wonderful! We gave—”
“—so many girls are going to look amazing at their proms, and it’s—”
“—that was the kindest thing I have ever witnessed!”
“Just a little fairy tale magic,” said the Princess, with a twinkle in her eye, and continued onward to the mirror. She needed a shower and about a dozen mimosas. Rats made great bodyguards, but they left a certain smell behind, and she wasn’t going to wear it a second longer than she had to.
Throwing a wave and a twinkle to the girls, she stepped into the mirror, and was gone.