Page 99 of Velveteen vs. The Consequences of Her Actions

“To be sure we’re all on the same page, can you state that purpose as you understand it, please?”

“You’re exploring the idea of putting legislative limits on the freedom of superhumans whose powers have been filed under the ‘animus’ classification, all because you don’t want to deal with another Supermodel, and you think you can control us if you make it illegal for us to exist outside your control.” The Princess tilted her head, ever so slightly, and continued not to blink as she spoke. “You like to think this is all your own idea, and maybe for some of y’all, that’s true. But the lobbyists I mentioned earlier, they’ve been drooling at the idea of clapping more controls on the superhuman population while they won’t have to deal with The Super Patriots, Inc. and their amazing legal department. So they want to get you to classify animus-type heroes as somehow uniquely dangerous and lock them all down, and it’s all because Supermodel was an actual supervillain, when we don’t have many of those. That about right?”

“Er,” said one of the other men. “Yes, that basically sums up the situation, although I want to stress for the record that this isn’t about special interests or lobbyists. This is for the protection of the United States of America.”

“Supermodel was dangerous because she was a nasty piece of work, but there wasn’t anything wrong with her that couldn’t have been fixed by being raised by my mama,” said the Princess placidly. “She had a hole in her heart, and no matter how much love people put into it, she always needed more. I won’t say that wasn’t her fault, because she had choices, but someone had to wound her for her to wind up the way she was. Maybe you should be focusing on making sure that superhuman children have the support they need to grow up mentally and emotionally healthy, instead of turning into monsters. That might do a lot more to protect the United States of America.”

“You used a term I’m unfamiliar with before,” said one of the women. “You said Supermodel was a ‘vitalomancer.’ I was under the impression that she was an animus.”

“That’s because she was,” said the Princess. “‘Animus’ isn’t a power all by itself, any more than ‘mammal’ is an animal.” One of the raccoons chittered, as if to illustrate her point. “‘Animus’ is an umbrella we spread over a whole bunch of powers, and some of them are more similar than others. Supermodel manipulated life itself, hence ‘vitalomancer.’ She’s the only one of her sort I’ve heard of, but she might have been to blame for that.”

“Please explain,” said the woman.

“Well, shoot, I don’t know how much y’all know,” said the Princess, which was a lie. These people knew everything she did, had been given full reports on the final battle before the dust had even finished settling. But years of dealing with politicians and the press had taught her that leaning on her accent and encouraging them to think of her as just simple folks was a good way to keep an equal hand in whatever fight she was trying to avoid engaging in. For too many people, a Southern accent translated to “not very bright” in the privacy of their heads, and while she hated it, she was also willing to exploit it.

“Humor us,” said the woman.

The Princess smiled as she leaned into her microphone. “Well, ma’am, Supermodel thought a lot like your committee seems to—to her, every animus was the same as every other animus, with no distinctions between them. If one animus was dangerous, than all the rest must be dangerous, too, and so it was important that they be controlled. Which she did by killing them. See, somewhere along the way, she’d figured out that all the animus heroes tap into the same power source, which meant that when there were lots and lots of them, they were pretty weak, but if you picked off the little ones at the bottom of the pyramid, the rest of them got stronger. So for years, she was killing every animus she could find. She let a few of the weaker ones slip through now and then, so she could study the way they used their powers, see if they did anything that might be useful to her, but she killed all the heavy hitters. Maybe there are supposed to be dozens of vitalomancers running around, changing the world. She made sure there couldn’t be.”

“Your assertion is that all animus heroes pull from this unified power source? Is this the case for other hero types as well?”

“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?”