Crossover Earth '98
DARWIN AFTER MIDNIGHT
When the police officer approached him, Milo was sitting on the fender of his car, pretending to inspect the damage. The left front quarter was crumpled and the hood had buckled where he had hit the lamppost, and every bit of glass in the frame was shattered, either from the collision or from gunfire. A liberal scattering of bullet holes decorated the dark blue body, each with its own corona of bare gray metal.
"Hard break," the police officer said. Her badge read NAUGHTON. She had a round, well-scrubbed face and sandy hair pulled back in a loose, springy ponytail. "You do have insurance, right?"
A wry smile twisted through Milo's beard and was gone. "Do you know, I had not considered that. I think they will charge me more after this, yes?" He sighed. "This is the first accident -- the first car accident -- I have ever had. It is a very unpleasant thing, is it not, to know that you have lost control of the vehicle and can only wait for the impact to come?"
"I guess," Officer Naughton said. "Listen, about -- "
"My wife will be irritated with me. She thought I should use something less -- less mundane for when I did my 'patrol.' As if those people would have forborne shooting at me if I were riding a unicorn. Or in a cart drawn by wolf-cats. I mean, it is obvious they were waiting for me, though I do not know why that should be so."
"Maybe they just wanted to test your rep," Naughton said. "And if -- "
"Yes, I had considered that. But it seems such a silly, wasteful way of doing it. After all, they were little enough of a challenge, and now they are taken. And for what? So someone can know that Milo Tagelohn is -- what he is?" Milo spread his hands.
"We're loading the vans now," Officer Naughton said quickly. "I was going to tell you, if you want to talk to them before -- "
"Oh! I apologize. I am very upset about this, you see, and when I am upset I talk too much." Milo followed Officer Naughton back toward where the cluster of police vans waited, their flashers filling the air with shards of blue and red. "Have any of them said anything of interest?"
"Nope. We know they work for this Tony person, but that's about it. And we don't know who he is. They're doing clam imitations."
"Eh? Oh, I see. But surely that is strange? They are only common criminals, yes? They did not seem well-disciplined when we fought." Milo disliked that last word. It made the unpleasant business sound more dramatic and important than it really was.
"Well, maybe," Officer Naughton said. "But for most of these types, fighting is one thing, talking to the law is entirely another."
"Yes, yes." The little man looked up at her as they walked. "It is hard sometimes, understanding how a criminal thinks."
"I'd say it's too damn easy." The police officer turned aside for a moment, and even in the darkness Milo could tell she was embarrassed.
A couple of photographers had shown up and were snapping pictures of the heap of weapons that had been piled up next to one of the vans: guns of crystal, solid silver, brass, lead, copper, sparkling in the flashbulb light and looking like some sort of modern art exhibition. Milo did not glance either at the guns or at the photographers who turned their cameras on him, calling his names ("Gnome! Look over here!" "Dr. Tagelohn, a moment -- !" and even "Hey, shorty!"). "What do you mean?"
"Why do you think people break the law?" Officer Naughton said. "You talk like you expect them to act reasonably. But if they were all that reasonable, why did they try to ambush a super-hero on the street? It's like, you know, when a new ape joins the herd, or whatever apes have -- he has to fight to show how strong he is. You're the new ape." She spoke fast and a little breathlessly, as if unsure of herself. "Fighting, stealing, doing anything you want as long as you come out on top -- that’s natural for them. For anyone. The law is just something we made up. It will never beat nature."
"An unusual attitude for a law officer, if I may say so."
"Yeah, well."
Milo stopped, and Naughton stopped with him. "Perhaps you are right. I do not deny that at base, the impulses that drive us have advanced little beyond what they were ten thousand years ago. But we did invent the law, did we not? And most of us even obey it. That is the highest glory of being human, I think -- that we are more than our bestial programming. We can recognize it, make allowances for it -- and sometimes even repudiate it. And every time we do, we move ourselves closer to God."
Despite herself, Naughton shook her head, smiling. "How the hell did we get into this conversation?"
Milo smiled back. "I warned you ... I do talk too much. Are these the prisoners?"
"Uh ... oh, yes. Go ahead."
Milo walked over to the line of prisoners being loaded into the last van. A few minutes later, he rejoined Officer Naughton, his smile gone.
"Nothing?" she asked.
"Nothing."
"I guess they're not human yet."
"Oh, of course they are. They just don't realize it. Thank you for your help. If you will excuse me ... " He gestured down the street, where a tow truck had pulled up next to his car.
"Sure."
Milo walked down toward the wreck. Halfway there, he glanced back over his shoulder and saw Naughton chatting wth another cop. The words " -- weird little guy" drifted to him on the night breeze. Then, after a moment: "No, not bad weird. Just, you know ... " Grinning, Milo faced forward again and continued on.