Designing Villains: some e-mail correspondence between HH and CSFB! on the subject of a new baddie for the PVB was made by via HH (who hopes CSFB! doesn't mind) on 2/10/2003 at 6:00:57 PM.

Sometimes a character just comes to life as the result of two people discussing stories. Such was the case with hel Rotwang, Futura, the Woman of the Future, Deus et Machina. She’s only appeared in one story so far and been mentioned in a couple of others. That might change.

Anyway, I thought folks might be interested in the correspondence last autumn between myself and CrazySugarFreakBoy! that led to her creation, so here it is.

CSFB!: I was thinking of a character who would crystallize how much Technopolis is the sort of reality that the Order of Order wants to achieve.

HH: Fair enough. Technopolis isn't really a nice place, of course. It's clean, efficient, organised, and educated. All the art is modern and aesthetic and predicatable. You'd never get a major Technopolis artist receiving a Hugo award by saying, "Fuck, I won a Hugo" (as I'm told Neil Gaiman did yesterday).

CSFB!: The Ironworkers of the Illuminated Inquisition (a sort of bastardized amalgam of the Freemasons, the Illuminati, and the Roman Catholic orthodoxy, even though I recognize that all of those groups would sooner rot than drink to each other's good health) is the occult/secret society/dedicated-to-stamping-out-the-supernatural subset of the Order, while the Pogroms of Purity (a.k.a. the Righteous Warriors of the White Race) are the Aryan/Nazi subset of the Order (which fits, since the Nazis were themselves a bastardization of several occult secret societies, although neither the Ironworkers nor the Pogroms are aware of the fact that they were spawned by the Order), so I wanted another reflection of the iterations of Order in our culture.

HH: In Technopolis history it's around 110 years since the wars which unleashed nuclear devastation and tectonic disaster on Europe and India and bombed those areas back to the middle ages. Given that the Illuminati and friends were always strong in southern and eastern Europe there would be a fertile breeding ground for their fundamentalist views against the growing counterculture of superstition and mysticism in those shattered lands. A force of pure order could easily arise just as it did in our 20's Germany.

Religion isn't a major force in the Technoverse, so there weren't any Jews to persecute. Scientists were able to determine early that there isn't much genetic difference between skin colours. So perhaps discrimination would be along other lines - genetic imperfections, hereditary diseases like haemophilia, low-end IQs, techno-luddites, those unwilling to have an I/O port installed in their cortex, or whatever.

The technology undoubtedly exists to breed a drone race of slaves who really ARE less clever and more hard-working and obsedient than the norm, so probably at some stage in history a mule-species of sub-human was generated and may still be around in the servitude they were bred for before robotics (cheaper and cleaner) made them obsolete except for hobbyists.

CSFB!: My idea is that, around the mid-to-late 1920s, Technopolis had already made contact with our reality, which would fit in neatly with your idea that the Shadow Cabinet had been feeding off of the advanced tech of Technopolis for years now.

HH: The first known contact was actually in 1882, when the Myndadrine Host, an alien swarm race from the Technoverse, used their advanced technology to dimension-jump and create a forward invasion base on Mars (c.f. War of the Worlds). They were thwarted by the League of Improbable Gentlemen. The Mynadrine Host attacked the harder-target Technopolis Earth twelve years ago and were repelled by Premiere, as has been intimated in the narrative.

Once the initial conduit had been formed there's no reason why humans on either side couldn't scavenge and adopt the technology any time thereafter.

CSFB!: My idea is that Hel Rotwang, a scientist and council member who hailed from the geopolitical region of Technopolis-Earth that corresponds with Germany, crossed over into our world, perhaps into Germany (it would have a nice symmetry, and why should all timespace travelers arrive in America and England, after all?). From there, she probably forged secret alliances with high-ranking government and military muckety-mucks, although she might have gained some minor measure of notoriety as "Futura, the Woman of Tomorrow" (although I'm not entirely sold on the name, so if you have any suggestions, I'd certainly consider them).

HH: If she was from that part of the Technoworld then she could have variously been one of the cyborg elite, or an organ-clone supremacist, or a nanoworshipper, or even a steampunk anarchist. From what you're saying I'd guess she might well have been from the cyborg elite, which saw perfection of form coming from the perfect blending of flesh and metal into the ubermensch.

CSFB!: I'd imagine that the Technopolis of the mid-to-late 1920s looked very much like Fritz Lang's version of the future in Metropolis, in contrast to modern-day Technopolis, which probably looks more like the 1950s and '60s-era rendition of the planet Krypton. I'm still trying to fit in the android/robot angle to all of this, because I'd like her to still be human when she first arrived in our reality (although having her appear in the public eye as a robot, ala' the Human Torch in the Golden Age, wold certainly fit in with her nickname), but the best I can come up with is that she put herself into a robot body to cheat death and avoid ageing in the modern day.

HH: Even as a cyborg elite she could look human with Technopolitan cyberprosthetics. It would only be if she was damaged on Earth and had to cobble up replacement with the pre-computerised pre-minaturised apparatus available that she might blossom into something grotesque.

If she was around in 30's Germany she would probably bump into Nazi cybernetics expert Dr Vishnar, by the way.

CSFB!: Suffice it to say that she is NOT a hero, since she is closely allied with the Order in its modern-day iteration, and is probably helping them turn the tide against Technopolis as we speak.

HH: There is undoubtedly a dispute of degrees between hard line Technoverse cyber-advocates and the mainstream. So far, ONLY science heroes and key security personnel have Technopolitan control chips implanted as a safeguard. Some would argue it is best to implant everybody from birth, thereby eliminating the possibility of lawbreaking and dissent. Cybernetic limb replacement is by choice, but some would feel it a crime to have technology which can make humans stronger and more durable and not insist upon it being used for the improvement of the race. If there are smart drugs that increase a child's IQ, isn't it a crime NOT to use them? In short, some factions feel that the Science Council has not gone far enough in exploiting the technology available to them for the improvement of the species.

CSFB!: Very much a Triumph of the Will sort of gal, albeit divorced from the attitudes about race that came to be associated with that sort of mindset in the 1930s and afterwards.

HH: It's an interesting idea, and your conceptualisation will undoubtedly differ from mine. How would you go about framing a narrative around the character?

CSFB!: After having pondered your thoughts, here are some of my own. Hel Rotwang, former Science Councilor, introduced herself to the post-World War I Germans of our world as "Futura, the Woman of Tomorrow", and promptly set about showing the scientists that she came into contact with, particularly Dr. Vizhnar, the "beautiful, terrible wonders" of Technopolis.

At first, a certain Baron, who acted as Vizhnar's patron back then, was quite impressed with the wonders that Futura had to show him, until a certain Chancellor rose to power in German national politics, and the Baron in question began thinking in terms of a more race-and-religion-centered perspective. As a result, Futura's mostly race-and-religion-blind brand of fascism begins to fall out of favor, and the push from above comes - in this case, "above" being "those above Dr. Vizhnar", or, more specifically, the Baron and the Fuhrer over Vizhnar - for Futura to cleave more closely to the "Aryan Ideal" propoganda of the Nazis.

Not being the sort to compromise her lofty ideals on anyone else's say-so - which is probably part of the reason why she was day-tripping in our dimension in the first place, since she was more than likely astute enough to recognize that her strident sociopolitical declarations in Technopolis would ultimately be the reason that she wound up cast out of the Science Council - I'm guessing that Rotwang told both the Baron and the Fuhrer exactly what they could do with their demands for her loyalty.

So, Dr. Vizhnar was forced to sever all his ties to Rotwang, much to his own regret, given that he recognized the essential truth behind many of her criticisms of the "Aryan Ideal" propoganda of the Nazis, and she was led off to be executed. Except that, instead of killing her, all that her would-be killers managed to do was to burn away the organic exterior of what was once Hel Rotwang, revealing the art deco-styled robot that had long since lurked beneath.

And with that, the sinister forces of Nazi Germany learned why Hel Rotwang had adopted the title of "Deus ex Machina" in her homeworld, before she escaped from their captivity entirely. Of course, she didn't die, but beyond merely making contact with the Order of Order, she actually managed to recreate the same cyborg cult following that she had inspired and nurtured in Technopolis, to the point that, today, the Citizens of Cybernation wield more influence than anyone would ever suspect.

It's one thing to face off against an enemy who tries to take away the humanity of human beings against their wishes, like the Borg, but when one is facing off against an opponent organization whose membership consists entirely of those who have voluntarily given up their humanity, entirely of their own free will, in order to attain what they believe to be a higher state of perfection, that's another matter altogether, isn't it?

It's much more fun to have enemies who fight on behalf of differing points of view, because any hero worth his salt should be fighting to defend the right of that enemy to speak out on behalf of his or her point of view, even as he fights to ensure that this point of view is not imposed upon the rest of the world, against their will. Just as with CrazySugarFreakBoy!, PsychoAcidPervGirl!, and the Order of Order, some of the best confrontations are those in which everyone is acting as an advocate on behalf of their own reasons for being.

HH: There's some nice thinking here, with enough depth the resonate mythologically within the structures of the Parodyverse.

Minor niggle: shouldnt it be Dea ex Machina (the godess in the machine)?

CSFB!: No.

"God" is, to my mind, a genderless concept, kind of like "creator" or "author". The only reason that the term "goddess" came about was because the patriarchal societies were the ones who first instituted the presumption that men could do all things, but women could only do some things. Hence, a "God" could be both a genderless being AND a male figure, just as "mankind" could stand for both "humankind" and "the male members of humankind", but the idea of a female "God" was considered so much an exception to the rule (by their way of thinking) that it needed the qualifying tag of "Goddess".

It's kind of like the term "actress" - aside from those cases in which gender apparently needs to be defined along with role, such as the Academy Awards categories, there's no reason why an "actress" can't simply be referred to as what she is, which is an actor.

Plus, you don't get the literary and stagecraft double meanings without the "Deus ex Machina" name.

HH: As I was reading this a plot sprang to mind fully formed - not that I propose it should actually be done. Dr Day-Vincent finds that as a result of earlier experiments he had contracted terminal cancer and has six months to live. This immediately emphasises what went wrong in his own relationships and the contemporary Dream-Sydney link. He is contacted by Rotwang with the opportunity to join her Cybernation, thus preserving his pristine intellect for the ages. He is also contacted by the Abyssal Greye with the opportunity of transmuting into one of the Scholar-Ghouls of Gothametropolis. His choices are between oblivion, robotisation, or undeath. And of course, despite his massive intellect, in the end it is his heart that makes him choose...

[Moving on…]CSFB!: It's one thing to face off against an enemy who tries to take away the > humanity of human beings against their wishes, like the Borg, but when one is facing off against an opponent organization whose membership consists entirely of those who have voluntarily given up their humanity, entirely of their own free will, in order to attain what they believe to be a higher state of perfection, that's another matter altogether, isn't it?

And I think this nicely encapsulates what makes the juxtapositions in CSFB!'s world so interesting. Each point of view is somehow defensible, even the reprehensible ones.

The only problem is, this tends to short-circuit the potential for adversarial pairings such as Doctor Who vs. the Master, in which the difference is as simple as that between good and evil, and part of the appeal comes from seeing these two guys, who are exactly alike in almost every respect (except for the fact that one is good and one is evil), just PLAY against each other, to the point that they're not even TRYING to hide the degree of perverse pleasure that they're deriving from their conflicts.

CSFB! doesn't really have an enemy like that, does he?

HH: The very best heroes would make devastating villains with only a slight difference in character. Hence Tony Stark, Reed Richards, Hank Pym, Bruce Wayne, and Kal-El would be far scarier - and more effective - than nearly anything in the Marvel and DC rogues galleries if they chose to be. Likewise the best villains could have been heroes without that one bad day - Doom, Magneto, and Luthor in particular could easily be the good guys in a different world (in fact Doom and silver-age Luthor HAVE been).

CSFB!: PAPG! enjoys fighting him, but he's too concerned with her welfare, since she's his kid sister, to enjoy fighting her back. Likewise, CSFB! enjoys fighting the Hooded Hood, but the Hood has never really enjoyed fighting him back, since he's just too irritated by his mere existence.

HH: I think fighting CSFB! may be the Hood's guilty pleasure.

All of which resulted in the following story:

Premiere Special Edition: Technopolis versus the Order of Order was posted by A special edition brought to you by CrazySugarfreakBoy! and edited by the Hooded Hood on Friday, September 20, 2002 at 05:22.

Premiere Special Edition: Technopolis versus the Order of Order

Science Councillor Joh Fredersen was a generally competent but mostly unremarkable man, which was why he had not been selected to oversee the Technopolitan take-over or subsequent management of the metropolitan areas on the Eastern seaboard of the North American continent, such as Parodiopolis or GothaMetropolis York.

Instead, he had been tasked with maintaining the Technopolitan control of the city of Seattle, Washington, which was located on the Northwestern coast of the Western hemisphere-dominating nation known as the United States of America.

In spite of its relatively small size, Seattle accounted for a surprisingly significant percentage of the indigenous Science Hero population, an anomaly that was apparent due largely to the efforts of a local Science Capitalist known as Gideon Book.

As a result, Assek Malevi had placed a priority on the overthrow and subjugation of Book and his corporate corps of Science Police, even as he devoted the majority of his efforts to waging war against the forces of Parodiopolis and GothaMetropolis York.

Fredersen knew that, if he succeeded at maintaining order in Seattle, which was now under Technopolitan control, he could hope for the reward of not being tortured or killed, and he might even be able to rise through the ranks of Malevi's Science Councillors.

He tried not to think about what would surely happen if he were to fail, which was why the current turn of events was so unsettling to him.

Book's corps of Science Police, an unlikely collection of former Science Villains who had named themselves (of all things) the Goofball Gauntlet, had launched an assault against the Technopolitan forces that had imposed martial law on the streets of Seattle, and in spite of the fact that Malevi's ranks of Science Heroes and Science Villains were armed with superior training, superior equipment, and superior numbers, the Goofball Gauntlet were actually managing to turn them back.

Worse yet, Fredersen was receiving reports that the security measures that had built to safeguard Book's Science Corporation, which he and his fellow Technopolitans were using as their central headquarters, had been breached.

As for Book himself, he simply continued to smile at Fredersen, even as the mental probe that he had been shackled into struggled to unlock the contents of his consciousness.

" "Your isolation from this situation disqualifies you from diagnosing the truth of it with any measure of authority," Fredersen countered, as his brain screamed at him to devise a solution, and he began to suspect that Book's prognosis might not be entirely inaccurate.

"Perhaps," Book acceded neutrally, coughing once or twice to clear out the blood and phlegm that had collected in the back of his throat, before continuing on. "In any event, while we wait for ... whatever it is, that's about to happen here, perhaps you could do me the courtesy of answering a simple question?"

"Go on," Fredersen allowed, apprehensively.

Book inhaled sharply. "Well, what I'm really rather curious to know is ... how does it feel, to have pissed away a perfect paradise?"

Fredersen gaped incredulously. "What ... ?"

Book's mask of feigned indifference dropped in an instant, as a scowl of stern disapproval crept over his sharp-edged features. "You people had it all - the best of all possible worlds - and you threw it all away. You lived in a plane of reality of that was ruled entirely by the forces of Order, and you allowed the agents of Chaos - and not even the agents of the Chaos of Creation, but instead, the agents of the Chaos of Destruction – you allowed them to take it all away from you. I have dedicated the whole of my life to the cause of transforming this world into a reflection of the bright and shining utopia that your own world once was ... and yet, you people, who were born into this ideal state of being, surrendered it up without a struggle, or even a second thought."

"You know not of what you speak," Fredersen stammered out in retort.

"I know enough," Book shot back, both his voice and gaze as steady as ever, even as the light and sweat and blood continued to sting his color-sensitive eyes. "And you know enough to know that, don't you? Even if you choose not to admit it, to me or to yourself, you're just smart enough to figure out that I'm right, aren't I? But at the same time, you're still not smart enough to figure out a way out of this, are you?"

"Quiet!" Fredersen barked, gripping the nearest console until his knuckles turned white.

"I've had the inside line on you people since you first set foot in this reality," Book spat at his captor. "One of your own people has been feeding me all of the latest data on the continually developing status quo of your world, along with all sorts of useful bits of information about how you Technopolitans operate. For instance, I have been told that the device to which I am currently confined just so happens to be run by a virtually self-aware artificial intelligence program, so as to facilitate its interaction with the human minds that it is tasked with analyzing. Of course, as a consequence of this, all that I have to do is say the words

RELEASE ME NOW

and it will," Book shrugged, as the unit's clamps around his wrists, ankles, waist, and neck all sprung open.

Fredersen could do naught but stare silently, in stunned disbelief.

"The Voice of Reason," Book explained, easing himself out of the machine, and rubbing his tender wrists in an effort to get the blood circulation flowing to those areas again. "One of Order's preferred tools of persuasion. The more intelligent and logical and reasonable and ... well, orderly the consciousness is, that hears the Voice of Reason, the more effective it is in its persuasions. And since the cognitive processes of the artificial intelligence were as logical and reasonable as almost any self-aware being could possibly seek to achieve, the outcome of this contest was never in doubt."

"Who are you?" Fredersen demanded. "What are you? You're not a man. You're not human. You can't be."

"Good questions," Book nodded, as he strode towards the cowering Science Councillor. "Do you honestly want to learn the answers, though? Are you fully prepared to be told who and what I am?"

Book's arm shot out towards Fredersen, his hand grabbing the Science Councillor by the jaw, and with a single fluid, forceful movement, he had lifted the Technopolitan off of his feet, as he intoned I AM THE WORD OF ORDER

MINE IS THE VOICE OF REASON

AND IT IS MY WILL THAT YOU PEOPLE NEVER TRESPASS HERE AGAIN

"And as Gods, our will shall be done," echoed an eerily artificial female voice from the other end of the room, whose outline glinted with a metallic sheen in the shadows.

"Ah, yes," Book nodded to the obscured form in the corner, as he released his powerful hold on the Science Councillor, and allowed him to fall roughly to the floor. "Joh Fredersen, I believe that you already know Hel Rotwang ... if not personally, then certainly by way of her reputation, which I've been informed precedes her in Technopolis. She was once a member of the Science Council too, wasn't she?"

Fredersen's eyes grew wide, as the silvery, streamlined figure stepped into full view. "No!" he shouted in protest. "You're not real! You're a legend, a myth! You're a fiction, a figment of make-believe, made up by Science Historians with overactive imaginations! You don't exist, and you never did!"

She silenced his escalating shrieks with a simple squeeze of his windpipe, crushing it in the process. "I am Deus ex Machina. I am God from the machinery. And I do indeed exist. But the same can no longer be said for you."

"You were able to download the access codes for the interdimensional communication channels?" Book checked, as he cleaned the sweat and blood from his face, and slid the protective chromo-filter lenses of his Shades of Gray back over his color-sensitive eyes.

Her art deco facial features remained expressionless as she offered her reply. "Including the passwords and backdoors to Malevi's most private and secure priority frequencies."

Book smoothed down his receding, close-cropped hair, until it lay flat against his head. "Well, then, there's no time like the present, to reach out and touch someone, is there?"

Assek Malevi, the Red Watchman of Technopolis, blinked in surprise as soon as he observed the flashing light on his audio-visual signal link to the occupation forces he had dispatched to enforce his will in Seattle, Washington, because he realized this meant that one of his own underlings had somehow mustered enough independent will to hail him, rather than waiting to receive a hailing summons from him.

Malevi punched the button to open his end of the connection, as he made a mental note to execute immediately whomever he saw the image of on his screen, and blinked in surprise a second time when the pixilated visage of Gideon Book appeared before him, buttoning up his white shirt, and brushing down his black suit.

"What is the meaning of this!?" Malevi bellowed, outraged at the unpardonable hubris of this unbidden intrusion. "On whose authority have you been freed from the mental probe!? We have other kinds of probes as well, you know! Where is Fredersen!?"

"Please do be quiet," Book sighed with an affected air of wearied patience, pinching the bridge of his nose in a gesture of feigned exasperation. "And to answer your questions, albeit in the reverse of the order in which they were asked, Fredersen is dead, I have been freed from the mental probe on my own authority, and the meaning of this is to inform you that the Order of Order has officially declared war on you, Assek Malevi, the Red Watchman, and all of Technopolis."

"You ... DARE!!!" Malevi roared, rushing forward to shout into the face of the entirely ordinary and altogether nondescript little man who presumed to be his own equal, and perhaps even believed himself to be the Red Watchman's better. "You primitive, backwoods-dwelling, chromosome-deficient, knuckle-dragging troglodyte ... you DARE to issue such demeaning commands to me, one who is clearly your superior, by every conceivable means of measurement -"

Book rolled his eyes in condescending disdain, behind his Shades of Gray, at Malevi's extended string of semi-inventive invective, before he finally felt the need to interject a rebuttal to the Red Watchman's tirades once again. "And apparently your highly evolved intellect is too sophisticated to understand that, when I request that you remain quiet, what I'm actually trying to tell you is LISTEN AND DO NOT SPEAK

Malevi gaped, and clutched at his own throat, as he discovered that he had suddenly become unable to utter so much as a single sound, as Book removed his Shades of Gray, polished their protective chromo-filter lenses on the immaculate fabric of his shirtsleeve for a few seconds, and then replaced them over his color-sensitive eyes.

"If the forces of Order were still in charge of Technopolis, I would have been content to sit back, and allow them to challenge our native agents of Chaos, that currently serve as the custodians of this realm, for the right to reshape this reality," Book elaborated, idly inspecting the dirt that had accumulated underneath his fingernails, during his brief term of imprisonment, as he spoke. "But you and your fellow agents of Chaos are just as unfit to decide the destiny of this dimensional plane as are the misguided simpletons who tend to the tasks of its defense and protection now - even less, considering that you are agents of the Chaos of Destruction, while the majority of them are agents of the Chaos of Creation, at least. I daresay I'd sooner elevate the likes of even Dreamcatcher Foxglove to the highest status of Godhood, rather than allow you the opportunity to rule over so much as a single shantytown of inbred mongoloids on this world."

"Nnnh ... nuh ... not your choice," Malevi choked out, fighting against the domination of the Voice of Reason through the sheer force of his white-hot hatred alone. "Mine. My choice. My world, now. My prize, to play with. My toy, to break."

If the Red Watchman had believed that this demonstration of his superhuman willpower was guaranteed to inspire a reflexive reaction of immediate submission from his deceptively drably clad opponent, he would have been seriously mistaken. "You managed to resist the Voice of Reason's directives so soon? Hnh.”

“Oh sure,” twitched the Watchman, rubbing his throat. “Voice of Reason, eh? I’ve just gotta get me one of those.”

“You must be even more psychotically insane than I had already suspected, in which case, no constructive purpose can be achieved by continuing this conversation any longer," Book concluded.

"No, wait!" Malevi urged, swallowing back his own considerable pride in order to force forth the conciliatory words that followed. "I kind of like you, in a want to piss down your throat way. You have class. Style. I keep telling my boys that’s what they need, but all those crazy kids seem to want to do is rape and murder. Perhaps ... we can come to an agreement, possibly even ... arrange an alliance. Tell me ... what is it, that you want?"

"What I want, more than anything else ... is for you, and for everyone else who is even remotely like you, to be erased, retroactively, from every last one of the infinite levels of existence, for all of eternity. End transmission," Book directed Deus ex Machina, cutting Malevi off before he could even open his mouth, to voice his next protest.

"You enjoyed that," the former Science Councillor once known as Hel Rotwang opined.

"You're good and goddamned right I did," Book muttered venomously under his breath, before inhaling sharply, and cracking his knuckles one by one as he continued on talking. "Anyhow, with that minor bit of business attended to, we might as well make contact with Mr. Foxglove, whom I believe is still gallivanting about with his Lair Legion associates somewhere roughly within the vicinity of Parodiopolis, to bring him up to speed on our progress in liberating his home town. The more sentimental specimens of so-called 'heroes', such as him, draw much of their strength from their homes."

"So I've noticed," Deus ex Machina remarked with a controlled tone of neutrality, even as her sardonic smirk gave away her assessment of Book's own sentimentality.

And of course, I didn’t do all this research for nothing. More to follow on the lethal Deus et Machina.

HH