8:00 am

Appearances can be so deceiving. Max and our vigilante returned just after sunrise with a completely unexpected report. It turns out that he is not the killer after all. In fact, it was a hoverdrone that killed those ex-cons. The surveillance tool that our government promoted as the ‘protector’ of the public and a preventative of crime has become a murder weapon. In this twisted world of ours, nothing is what it appears to be. And it turns out that our vigilante friend is not exactly what he appears to be either.

"What does the chair do? Or are your powers mostly mental?" He asked with total sincerity, suggesting that I might have machine gun turrets secretly mounted inside the wheel rims of my chair. I’m afraid that when I ordered the chair with the turbo thrusters, I neglected to request the gun turrets as well. Hearing that comment in all its seriousness, I could barely keep myself from laughing out loud. Then he called Max a mutant. He called us the brains and the brawn. I’m not sure Max and I would normally appreciate those descriptions of our ‘strengths’. But how can you be offended by a man-child who considers you a fellow comic book hero? How can you be anything but amused by a man who sits at your table eating milk and cookies, talks about threats from another dimension, and who obviously has ‘special powers’ of his own?

Our friend’s exoskeleton is very intriguing. He said it functions by relaying nerve impulses from the spinal cord to the cervomotors, increasing speed and strength by as much as thirty percent. But if Max’s description of the ten-foot fence he jumped last night is accurate, the correct number is probably one hundred and thirty percent. If I can find or design an exoskeleton so that the original contact point is above my injury site, it might work for me. My nerve impulses are intact. And the receptors in my legs are all still in place, just waiting for the impulses to arrive. All I need is something to bypass the lesion in my spinal cord. The exoskeleton appears to do just that. It transmits the nerve impulses to the cervomotors affecting the major muscle groups. I could conceivably have an increase in strength as well. That is remarkable. But even if I could only stand up or walk, forget running or jumping or superhero tricks, it would still be a miracle. Once I’ve relayed our latest piece of hoverdrone news to Jonas, I’m going to put my head together with Sebastian’s and see what we can come up with. This has enormous potential.

Jonas should be up by now, starting his day with a Bloody Mary for breakfast. Since the day I moved in with him and Margo, it’s been his usual cure for the perpetual hangover that he wakes up with. I always appreciated bringing him his first Bloody Mary each morning before heading off to school. I spent as little time as possible at ‘home’ back then and I still avoid going back there now. I’m going to pass on the news and get out of there as fast as possible. Two visits in two days are enough to last me another six months.

10:00 am

Jonas was as happy to see me this morning as I was to see him. He didn’t even bother to hide his barbs behind comments about the ‘class struggle’. He came right out and said it.

"You publish some half-assed yarn, it's going to drive away business. And take a chunk out of your bottom line, too, let's not forget."

I thought I was somehow divorced from Jonas. My income came from the family trust, which my parents set up years before Cale Industries adopted hoverdrone technology. Things may have been different when my parents ran the company and administered the trust, but I can’t deny how they are now. I didn’t protest when Jonas became the trust administrator, so I tacitly allowed him to make investment decisions on my behalf. I can no longer deny the fact that the trust is heavily invested in Cale Industries, and therefore, so am I.

Sometimes, I think I am no better than Bruno Anselmo. He thought he could make up for years of murder by committing one final good deed. At times, I think that is what I am doing with Eyes Only, using it as some sort of atonement for living off the proceeds of police oppression. But I know I can’t make up for it by periodically exposing a few corrupt officials and businessmen. In reality, I am far worse than Bruno because I know better. He was only concerned about himself and never claimed otherwise. I know that a higher law exists and I have professed to live it. But in reality, I haven’t. I’ve spent so much time in the past year equating my worth with the ability to walk, but I was way off base. The true test of my worth is not my physical strength, but my integrity.