Forge 2015

By Nute. Originally posted on x_project.

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DC was hot as he walked out of the hotel. Muggy, but that was what happened when you built a city on top of a swamp. Stepping onto K Street, Forge let his eyes unfocus, then blinked twice. Immediately acknowledging the retinal projection command, his contact lenses darkened slightly to a cobalt blue, embedded microprocessors running.

Invisible to any onlooker, the golden wireframe image of Forge's personal "assistant" appeared in the corner of his vision. "Good morning, BossForge. Ambient temperature and humidity are above preset comfort levels. Adjusting textile density to compensate."

As Forge walked, he felt the weight of his suit change, the weave opening imperceptibly to let air flow through as he walked. Checking his watch, he smiled. "Schedule, Warlock. Where am I off to?"

Before his field of vision, a series of red lines curved around street corners before him, like a trail of bread crumbs in glowing laser-fine precision. As Forge passed the entrance to a Metro station, he frowned at the traffic. "Bypass public transport, Warlock. I feel like walking today. Automate rescheduling calls. Now, who's on first?"

"Correct, BossForge."

"Humor program to the background, 'Lock. What's my first appointment?" Even with the mild frustration, Forge had to smile at the image of his animated assistant self-flagellating in comic regret, scampering to the other side of his vision as he rounded a corner.

"Confirming... 0915, Patents and Trademark Organization. Thirty minute conference call with Stane Industries Bucharest regarding extradermal microdosage transmitters."

Forge smiled to himself, blinking again to see the meeting agenda scroll by ahead of him as he walked. A micro-range teleportation device, hand-held, that could send medication directly into the bloodstream of patients whose skin could not be pierced by even the toughest adamantium-lined syringes. Stane had been making inroads into medical care for some of the growing mutant kibbutzes in Eastern Europe, and Forge was obligingly offering them first crack at his technology.

"Recommendation, BossForge," Warlock chirped, "Chief Executive of Stane/Bucharest is Tovar el-Raman, CV uploading. Reference family."

Forge skimmed the executive's professional resume, smiling to himself. "Two children, both visible mutants. He's applied to Xavier's for his daughter, I see. We'll push the philanthropy angle, then. See if we can't get them to sign on to HeliX's European distribution plan." He absently adjusted the small 'X' symbols on his shirt collar. "This afternoon?"

Warlock ran in circles briefly, before blinking his hugely-rendered eyes and retreating to the edge of Forge's perception. "1600, public appearance at Robert Kelly Stadium to announce HeliXCorp's sponsorship of Washington Nationals' 2015 season. Photo opportunity with Miguel Gonzalez-Garcia at 1630."

"First mutant named to the All-Star team," Forge mused, "See if he's available for our ad campaign, and maybe a speaking engagement at the school before the season starts. Also-"

The red flashes at the edges of Forge's vision signaled an incoming priority message, minimizing Warlock to a small speck. With a growl, Forge stopped walking, tapping his collar studs to activate his phone. "Blacksmith here. What's the situation?"

"Yo, 'Smith. Hostage situation in Paris, it's the MLF again. Which thingy shuts down that big lightning guy?" Jubilee's voice came over the communicators clear as if she was standing right next to him, instead of somewhere on the Champs-Elyssee.

Thinking for a moment, Forge cocked his head and responded. "Hard-air ozone projector, locker 212B, access code 'Chocolate Chili Dog'. Don't let anyone teleport with it, though. It'll go offline for about a minute while the targeting resets. And-"

"I know, I know. We break it, we bought it. Like you need the money. Anyway, Gold leader out, dude."

Shaking his head briefly, Forge paused another moment in his walk to admire a group of coeds on the other side of the street before following his route. "Warlock," he commanded, "Add to schedule: procure tickets to the National Theater's debut of 'Seeds of Change'. Call Gabrielle, see if she's up for a night on the town. Bump the SEC meeting about Wideawake Technologies to Thursday, and give me today's headlines when I'm done with Stane. Oh, and record to file - synthetic long-chain protein binding for nanite attachment will reduce rejection. Consult with partners when back home. End schedule."

Pausing briefly in the middle of the National Mall, Forge looked over his shoulder to the US Capitol in the distance. Mutant Rights lobbying with Secretary Cooper over lunch, and then another requisition meeting with the folks at Anodyne. Day like this meant he'd enjoy the first-class flight back to Westchester tomorrow morning.

But today, he had to go to work.