The Grammarian vs. Laser Suit Larry

Most of the security features of the First National Bank were the same as those found in every other bank in Lexicon City. Heavy steel doors, duralinium steel vaults, electronic locks, bulletproof glass and other physical controls were augmented by personnel controls: security guards on rotating shifts, extensive background checks, regular drug screenings and lie detector tests. However, the First National Bank also added an extensive electronic intrusion security system, meant to protect the banks of computer servers in a subbasement. The computers regulated the flow of currency in and out of the Lexicon City Stock Exchange, the second largest such exchange in the world. Almost a trillion dollars moved through the system every day; only London handled slightly more.

London was next on the list to be hit.

Getting past the physical security had been tricky for Laser Suit Larry, but with his ability to manipulate light in all its forms, the supervillain was a master at overcoming any obstacle that stood in his way. Impulse waves of coherent laser light deactivated cameras and sensors, extreme blue-shifting of the infra-red security sweeps made them ideal for sending electronic override signals through steel and concrete. Doors opened for him, bars swung away and alarms stayed silent as he moved through the dark halls. Reflexively, he bent the ambient light around himself, leaving only a faint outline for any would-be observer.

The hallway outside the server room was crisscrossed with green laser beams, glinting as dust motes moved in the air. It was the work of only a moment to refract the beams to create an unobstructed path to the final door. He stepped around the pressure pads in the floor and over the high-voltage tripwires to approach to iris scanning camera. With a simple projection from his gold chest medallion, he tricked the system into thinking he was the chief IT specialist. The door clicked open and Laser Suit Larry slipped into the chilly, noisy server room.

Standard IT security meant that the computers had already logged his entry. Part of the job would be to tell the computers to rewrite their own access logs, as well as the security logs for the rest of the building. By the time he was done, all trace of his actions tonight would be wiped away.

He took a fist-sized device from his pocket and looked for the best bundle of fiber optic cables to clip it to. The volume of data the First National Bank handled meant using fiber optics instead of regular copper cables; it made this a perfect target for someone with his unique skill set. It had taken him almost a year to build and test his little frequency-shifting quantum laser interferometer, but it was the most brilliant piece of technology he'd ever created. By taking an instantaneous fast-Fourier analysis of pingback decay rates from a twinned-muon quantum echo flux emission, his little box would be able to record every signal in the main data trunk, both coming and going, then remodulate them and send them on their way again.

Once he had his device in place, he'd be continuously sipping from the flow of sensitive electronic information. If he used it to draw off tiny bits of currency, even if he limited himself to pulling 0.0001% from 0.0001% of the transactions, he would be fabulously rich within days. However, the sensitive information on the trades and transactions was far more valuable, and much less risky to steal. There were people who would pay handsomely for such information, if they could get it before anyone else. Grinning, he removed the cover to a fiber optic junction box and fitted his super snooper among the tightly packed bundles. When it was activated, he sent the signal to have it rewrite the computer logs, then picked up the box cover to replace it.

He never made it. As he tried to fit it in place onto the junction box, he found that it wouldn't fit. No longer working smoothly together, the two parts were jarring and clunking against a mass of sentence fragments, their ragged ends preventing things from coming together properly.

"Give it up, Larry," said a voice behind him, "there's no way out of this."

Laser Suit Larry dropped the cover and spun around. In a dark corner, the Grammarian was shimmering into visibility as a thick layer of obfuscation evaporated away. His hands were outstretched, pointing directly at the supervillain.

"I told the bank president that I'd wait for you to actually install your device and turn it on," the hero said, "so that the D.A. could prosecute on actual data theft, rather than just on intent to commit electronic espionage."

"I'm NOT going back to prison, Grammarian!" With a snarl of frustration, the supervillain fired his pulsed ruby laser, powerful enough to melt steel. The room flashed red as the ruby-array laser discharged in a buzzing explosion of light.

With lighting-fast reflexes, the Grammarian countered with a cascade of blue language, a shockingly potent blast of profanity that stunned Laser Suit Larry even as it impacted his laser beam. The two streams met and mixed, red and blue energies cascading outward in a flood of purple prose. The entire room was filled with the immensely turgid and convoluted sentences; every subject within reach was wrapped around and enmeshed throughout with long subordinate clauses filled to o'erflowing with flowery metaphors, arcane allegories replete with classical allusion and quotations from dead French poets.

The impenetrable word-cloud tied up Laser Suit Larry completely. He staggered back under the heavy onslaught and fell to the floor, trapped under the many layers of leaden, nearly incomprehensible sentences. The Grammarian, however, knew exactly how to deal with purple prose. With a mental command, he activated his Short-Range Sentence Diagrammer. The looping, interwoven sentences parted in a flash of clarity, falling away into discrete subunits. In moments, he stood with hand on hips, surrounded by a ring of neatly organized prepositional phrases, adverbs, adjectives and subordinate clauses. He cleared a path through the literary thicket, all the while flooding it with a steady stream of memetic energy to keep Laser Suit Larry bound in place.

"You're so predictable, Larry. You use that red chest laser every time. When are you going to learn?"

Cursing, the villain struggled against his bonds, trying in vain to change the tangle of sentences into photons so he could escape.

The Grammarian smiled. "Forget it. If you knew anything about literature, you'd know there's no way to make light of purple prose."

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Look for the Grammarian's novel-length adventure, coming soon to a bookseller near you!

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