#2: Thor: Attaching a Lightning Rod to the Lightning God

If the Hulk is the most physically powerful of the team featured in the Avengers movie, Thor comes in second. If the Hulk can be stopped by a capable team of humans with no special abilities, Thor can also be neutralized. Time to open the file.

Dossier #2: Thor Odinson

Biology and powers description: Seemingly-human form features extreme levels of strength and endurance. Thor is capable of flight, apparently via willpower. Thor wears armor from the dimension or planet Asgard, and carries the hammer Mjolnir, which is impossible for any but Thor or one of an extremely select number of honor-designates to lift. If summoned, Mjolnir will physically fly to Thor’s hand regardless of where it is stored. Thor displays the ability to control or direct lightning, which may or may not be an ability of Mjolnir, rather than Thor himself. CAUTION: Thor is labeled by Scandinavian mythology as a god, and there is an ongoing debate in our organization and outside about whether he should instead be considered an alien. As Asgard is undoubtedly a real place, populated by a variety of entities from Scandinavian mythology, it is the opinion of the authors of this dossier series that the god/alien distinction is a distraction. When Thor is referred to by attribute in this document, he will be called an ‘entity.’

Psychological description: Thor, when effective, has a fixed honorable-warrior personality. When Thor fails to uphold his personal code of chivalry, the effect is palpable—Mjolnir stops responding to his commands. Thor should be considered of average but not exceptional intelligence. He is generally unfamiliar with human technology.

Capture scenario #1: Thor’s dangerousness stems from four factors: (1) enhanced strength, (2) flight, (3) Mjolnir, and (4) lightning control. Attaching a lightning rod to Thor may eliminate or impair his ability to direct lighting, but Thor is a highly mobile target, and likely has the strength to rip off any rod. Successful capture of a hostile Thor is dependent on neutralizing his strength. For this purpose, development or appropriation of a malleable and adhesive foam is recommended. This foam, if attached to Thor, should operate as a sort of balloon-shaped mobility limitation suit, hobbling his ability to walk, stand, or grasp anything, including Mjolnir (his hands should be entirely encased in balls of foam). The foam should have the distinctive property of not inhibiting Thor’s actual muscle movements, considered too powerful to directly chain. Rather, the foam should be very thick and internally flexible, preventing Thor’s movement arcs from actually accomplishing anything. If applied appropriately (perhaps through spray cannons, and in tandem with a more powerful adhesive helping the foam to stick to Thor’s skin) Thor should be unable to use his enhanced strength effectively, and should be unable to physically seize Mjolnir. Once the foam is in place, the lightning rod can be inserted, which will potentially neutralize three of four of Thor’s dangerousness factors. The final factor, flight, is linked to Thor’s will and cannot be mitigated via foam. However, using the heavy adhesive to glue the encased Thor to a prepared slab of dense material may prevent his foam-encased body from escaping. Note that an encased Thor would be not be able to use his muscles to aid in liftoff, and would not be able to build up to speed. The slab approach to restraining Thor’s flight may nevertheless be insufficient. In this case, the assault team should have a negotiator on hand to appeal to Thor’s honor as a warrior, and convince him to acknowledge defeat. The fact that Thor should be unable to grip Mjolnir at this point, and would have to leave it behind to fly, should be extremely persuasive.

Capture scenario #2: The second capture scenario purely attacks the social weaknesses that stem from Thor’s honorable warrior ethos. If Thor’s father Odin can be convinced that Thor’s dalliances on Earth have violated a part of the Asgardian warrior code, Odin may be able to convince Thor to peacefully surrender to American civil or military authority. If, as is likely, Odin is unreachable or unable to be persuaded on this point, Thor may be convinced of his violations by agency negotiators directly. The agency may be able to falsify evidence of Odin’s anger in order to encourage Thor’s surrender. While an officer posing as Odin is unlikely to be personally believable, given the distinctive physical characteristics of Asgardian entities, a letter or messenger may have sufficient apparent validity to be utilized.

Custody scenario #1: While Thor is extremely strong, his physical capacities are not limitless in the same way as the Hulk’s. It stands to reason that a prison made of bought or stolen Asgardian metal would be firm enough to withstand Thor’s potential breakout attempts, especially if foam remained on Thor’s hands to prohibit his utilization of Mjolnir.

Custody scenario #2: This scenario rests on the ability of agency technology to fully contain Thor. If the entity is contained in foam, and placed inside a large hollow ball (the cell) in turn placed on a large circular underground track, momentum from Thor’s efforts at willful flight may be converted into torque, spinning the hollow ball wildly but not rotating it open. Within the ball, Thor can be monitored by surveillance technology, and nutriment can be provided at appropriate intervals. Ideally, Mjolnir can be situated inside the hollow ball in such a way as to be useless in Thor’s foam-encased hand. Tricking the magic in this way will prevent Thor from making endless attempts to summon Mjolnir.

Political Considerations: Given Thor’s status as the child of the head of a powerful sovereign nation, steps must be taken to ensure Asgardians do not attack en masse to free him. Therefore, Asgard must either be convinced Thor’s captivity is appropriate (see Capture scenario # 2) or convinced it is not appropriate to engage with the United States. Placing the blame for Thor’s capture on a pansy set of actors outside the agency may remove the threat of Odin’s wrath, and hiding the prison where Thor is stored may outlast it (further study of Asgardian projective military capacity is needed to determine if hiding Thor while taking responsibly for his capture is feasible). During negotiations, the Asgardians, being honorable, may agree to imprison Thor themselves if we agree to give him up. This option is reasonable. Even if Thor is released from Asgardian prison, he likely will be encouraged not to return to Earth, and banishment is, for our purposes, akin to imprisonment.

#1: The Hulk: Being Smashing

Say you have a rogue superhero. A Superman. A Thor. Someone tough. How do you stop him? Maybe you get another superhero—one of the Avengers, one of the JLA. Maybe a whole team, if the rogue in question is a really heavy hitter. But what if all the superheroes are compromised? What if the mooks of SHIELD are all that’s left? Or, what if the superheroes still seemed to be out there doing good things, grabbing people from midair as they fall off buildings, but the President of the United States wants to round up mutants and metahumans one and all, because people with powers are too dangerous to bounce around as vigilantes?

Pretend you’re the Director of the CIA. The Chairman of the Joint Chiefs. The world you’re in has people with superheroes. Famous ones, from the stories that we in the real world know. How do you comply with the President’s orders, when you’re up against a class of people that can throw around tanks and maybe, on the far end of the scale, even move planets?

Carefully. With a lot of planning and logic.

The file below is for the eyes in agency with billons of dollars in funding, but not a single superhero on the payroll. An agency that has been tasked either to take superheroes in, or come up with plans in case the President decides to give the order, but has access to nothing more than real-world human technology.

Let’s start reading the document. Let’s see how to stop the Hulk.

Dossier #1: Hulk (Bruce Banner)

Biology and powers description: Human base state. Metamorphosis in seconds to muscular ‘Green Hulk’ form when enraged. Green Hulk form’s rage-fueled strength and endurance without defined upper limit. Green Hulk form can be maintained indefinitely during confrontation. Secondary hulk forms have occasionally been sighted, and are assumed to have similar physical capacities.

Psychological description: Bruce Banner is often transient, and has difficulties trusting people, including himself. Human Banner frequently displays passivity, meekness, and fear. While human Banner is a scientist, interested in studying gamma radiation that turned him into a monster, the aggressive Green Hulk form appears to have a distinctive, less cerebral, personality. Recordings of Banner indicate he is not pleased with his transformed state, as he often warns individuals not to make him angry. CAUTION: There is some evidence to suggest Banner does remain in control while in Hulk form, feigning lack of presence during the altered state. Casualties during Hulk incidents are traditionally low, and the Hulk often targets supervillians.

Capture scenario #1: If officers can find and engage human Banner while he is sleeping, passed out, or in a similar unconscious state, application of tranquilizers may be sufficient to maintain the passive state long enough for Banner to be transferred to a long-term incarceration facility. CAUTION: As Banner’s transition to Hulk form is extremely rapid, and the Hulk form displays high resistance to sedatives, Capture scenario #1 is considered optimistic.

Capture scenario #2: Hulk incidents typically involve Banner’s altered form. In engagements with the Hulk, it is key to understand that Banner’s rage-fueled strength and endurance have been shown to scale to the challenge at hand. Bullets, missiles, and even superhuman strength (not that we have officers with the third asset) are known to have limited stunning effects at best, and accelerate the Hulk’s power enhancement process at worst. Any attempt to defeat the altered form must be highly tactical. Deployment of low-friction surfaces may deprive the Hulk of the ability to leap or fight accurately. Abandoning efforts to physically disable the Hulk in favor of creating a pattern of distractions (perhaps using circling jeeps) may trap the Hulk in a repetitive or predictable series of attacks. Bullets in general should be considered to have utility purely as attention-manipulators, and for that reason, should be as low-caliber as possible, in an effort to delay or deny the Hulk’s power enhancement process. Attacking the Hulk with sealant canisters aimed at the eyes may create a temporary blinding effect and provide time for the deployment of additional low-friction surfaces or harassment vehicles.

The goal of this scenario is to keep the Hulk from moving off-site while gradually reducing the intensity of the conflict, in order to encourage Banner to return to human state, so that he can become susceptible to sedatives. Utilization of satellite or other long-range surveillance may allow officers to set up an extremely wide perimeter for this purpose, allowing the Hulk to believe the combat is done and triggering a revert. Depending on the size and sophistication of the surveillance net, the endgame of this scenario may be identical to scenario #1. CAUTION: Assault teams should be prepared to go through many iterations of the reduction-in-confrontation-intensity cycle before Banner is in custody. Successful tranquilizing may not be possible, which will require study of Custody scenario #1.

Custody scenario #1: In this form, skirmishes with the Hulk proceed indefinitely, while efforts are made to corral the creature in a non-populated zone. Combatants will be continually cycled in-and-out, to maintain fresh wardens. This form of custody may be highly expensive, but has the advantage of not allowing the Hulk to know he is in custody, which may prevent escape attempts. This form of custody is considered feasible because the extreme threat level associated with the Hulk may attract requisite funding.

Custody scenario #2: This plan assumes that the human Banner is successfully injected with a sedative, allowing transfer to a built facility. Because of the boundless nature of the Hulk’s power, incarceration within a general population is unfeasible. Banner in human form may be kept in a sensory deprivation tank, attached to a feeding tube, and maintained on a diet that includes sedatives and other agents aimed at disabling or distracting his consciousness. Keeping Banner unconscious indefinitely may be ideal. More optimistically, a battery of tests combined with endocrine surgery may remove Banner’s physiological ability to become enraged, and allow him to be transferred to a more humane isolation cell. Even in the case of successful surgery, moving Banner to general population or allowing parole is not recommended, as he still would be saturated with gamma radiation, with attendant dire consequences if his ability to become enraged is restored.

Writing a Novel, Part Nine: Characters, Characters, Barely Even Human

Say you have a character.  His name is Bob.  He sees the world through your eyes.  Whether he’s the main character, or the sidekick of the story, or a love interest, or an evil mastermind bent on breaking open the world’s crust with a space laser, he is fundamentally limited to the sorts of things you can imagine he will do.  If you want Bob to be sweet and sentimental in once scene and a rude piece of crap in the next, he’s not going to protest about his motivations not making sense, because his actions are dictated by you.  You are his creator.

When writing characters that are going to get more than one line, keeping them consistent is important.  A Bob who alternates between giving flowers to orphans and recoiling at the sight of children is probably going to contribute towards making your story seem a little less real.  Try to get a sense of your character’s personalities before you force them into dialogues and actions.  If a certain something has to happen to advance the plot, try to think about which character most fits the activity.

Next week, we’re going on hiatus.

Writing a Novel, Part Eight: Setting

Honestly, setting has always troubled me.  Way back in the day, I read some writer’s lament about an old manuscript of theirs that tried to tell sweeping war epic but failed to be anything other than silly.  The point was about ‘writing what you know,’  one of the more important clichés.  When an author starts typing away about something outside the realm of personal experience, factual mistakes are guaranteed, and the only question is how many there will be.

I took this law of writing to imply that the safest settings were alternate worlds, born entirely out of one’s mind and thus safe from criticism about things like actual driving distances or US court procedure.  My first two books were set on the continent of Shivell, and my third was set in an expansive and equally imaginary empire.  Because of their locales, those books qualified as epic or heroic fantasy.  Urban fantasy, meanwhile, is the moniker for magical books set in the real world, or something quite close.  In my new genre, I have to write about cars and planes and all sorts of things that can actually be checked.  But real-world settings, as complicated as they are, can be opportunities to teach something, excuses to do research, and thematic hooks.

Specific settings are excellent at conveying tone, metaphor, and plot.  What’s more interesting than two people talking?  Two people shouting across an empty road.  Think about the lightsaber battle between Obi-Wan and Anakin at the end of Star Wars: Episode III.  The lava made the scene.

Anyhoo, next week we’ll cover characterization.

Writing a Novel, Part Seven: The Zone of the Tone

Tone, more popularly known as style, is one of the harder things to teach, according to conventional wisdom.  It’s one thing to tell students to have plots with a beginnings, middles, and ends, to have snappy dialogue with clear attribution, to have a core idea for a story, but an author can have all three checkmarks without really being interesting.  What’s the deal?

A middle school teacher of mine put the dynamic quite well.  In books, the tired old metaphor is true—it’s the journey, not the destination.  But don’t mistake good style with flowing literary writing.  Flowing literary is only one kind of tone, and not all flowing literary is good.  A rule of thumb is this:

Be interesting.  Be always interesting, every sentence, every word, every scene.

Some people think that the key to novel writing is length.  While verbosity might intimidate some people (there’s a whole literature on the fine art of using big words to bluff knowledgeability in scholarly writing [http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sokal_affair]) it’s the wrong way to go if you want to be a good novelist.  Why?  Consider the following:

George dismounted from his simpering, whinnying equestrian animal and took careful padded steps towards the great beast, a fine example of the genus Draco, speaking in a nuanced cant as he sauntered ever closer: “You must not, I say, bother this fine village again, because if you do, my dear creature, you will find that the pointy end of my spear will pierce your left dragon eye, cutting off your depth perception and rendering you unable to hunt even the smallest, most youngling waterfowl in all of the Five Duchies.”

Or,

George dismounted towards the dragon, speaking in a cant: “You must not bother this fine village again, because if you do, my spear will pierce your left eye, cutting your depth perception and rendering you unable to hunt even the smallest waterfowl in all the Five Duchies.”

To step into the dangerous world of assessing one’s own writing, the problem with the first sentence is not in the individual phrases (even ‘equestrian animal’ could have uses towards comedy or characterization) but rather in all the redundancy.

Don’t be redundant.  If you have a good turn of phrase, use it to advance plot, setting, or characterization.  Otherwise it’s just getting in the way.

Next time—Setting the table, kingdom, empire, or whatever the place may be.

Writing a Novel, Part Six: Plotting, Overplotting, and Laughing at James Bond Right Before the Laser Slices Him in Half

Plot, so goes the joke, is the difference between literary and genre fiction.  The condensation goes both ways—literary writers with poetic language but less-than-logical narratives can say that commercial writers don’t choose individual words with as much care, and so don’t produce work of lasting value.  Sometimes the argument surfaces that all old fiction read today is literary.  While both sides of the genre argument have interesting points, the more specific notion that only ‘literary’ works stand the test of time is bunk.  Shakespeare and Mark Twain, among others, most assuredly wrote for the popular audiences of their day, and their works most assuredly contained plot.

To imagine plot, imagine a flowchart of the events that happen in a novel.  With Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone, an abridged version would be something like:

Harry is invited to Hogwarts -> Harry goes to Hogwarts, meets friends and teachers -> Harry discovers a conspiracy -> Harry and his friends solve some puzzles, and save the day

This sort of thing can be much more or even much less detailed, but the point is that pure plot is essentially the description of a path.  Rowling's writing style—her tone, characterization, humor, wit—these are all different things entirely.  Plot is a blueprint for fiction, just as dialogue is a key tool.

What might your plot be?  Genre fiction, at least, has a sort of standard narrative (in common with many movies) that is very hard to break away from.  Step One: Hero(ine) leads boring, or at least repetitive life.  Step Two: Heroine experiences some irresistible call to adventure.  Step Three: Heroine vanquishes physical evil, metaphorical evil, or both.  Step Four: Heroine returns to a level of normalcy.

In series, sometimes this process is dragged out over many books.  Sometimes there are twists—the heroine’s retirement is death, the bad guy or true love is someone other than expected, etc…  But this narrative arc, explained in great detail in Joseph Campbell’s The Hero with a Thousand Faces, is startlingly consistent across a wide variety of stories.  Indeed, tales that don’t have clear endings are sometimes accused of being done ‘wrong.’

If you want to write gene fiction, like urban fantasy, it is probably better to ponder how your first novel will explore the four stages I outline above, rather than how it can break away from the constraints.  Don’t fret too much.  Understanding the paradigm probably the first step towards figuring out how to rearrange it.

Next week—Tone, so fickle.

Writing a Novel, Part Five: Beginnings, Plural

From a certain perspective, starting a new novel a new novel is nothing special.  After all, you’re going to be staring down a blank page many more times in the future.  Each new chapter, scene, and paragraph is the start of a sort of story.  Moreover, since we never know where a reader might skim, any given sentence might serve as reintroduction to the flow of text.  Your Real First Sentence, the one that goes at the tippity top of the word document, isn’t sui generis, but rather similar to the sort of work you’re supposed to be displaying all across your novel.  Its uniqueness is much more psychological than mechanical.  But that said, first sentences do have a hallowed place in writer culture.  So let’s take a look at some famous examples:

“Mr. and Mrs. Dursley, of number four, Privet Drive, were proud to say that they were perfectly normal, thank you very much.” –Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone, by J. K. Rowling

That’s the opening line to a billion-dollar franchise of novels.  And it’s good.  But what’s striking is that the reasons why it’s good aren’t things that we aspiring authors should think are confined to mysterious and holy Real First Sentences.  Rowling rolls out setting (an ordinary home), characters (a married couple), tone (the Dursleys are snooty, defensive), and foreshadowing (why do the Dursleys feel a need to point out their normality?) in only a line and a half.

True, introductions of setting and characters tend to show up at the start of scenes, but if Rowling had focused only on those two elements, and written a line like “Mr. and Mrs. Dursley lived at number four, Privet Drive,”  she would have been omitting the very parts of the sentence that made it most special.  Rowling’s use of ‘proud,’ ‘perfectly normal,’ and ‘thank you very much’ are the elements that unfurl the Dursleys’ tensions—and tension is the sort of thing that should be maintained across the scope of a good novel.

“I’d never given much thought to how I would die –though I’d had reason enough in the last few months – but even if I had, I would not have imagined it like this.” –Twilight by Stephanie Meyer

Meyer’s famous series is not often favorably compared to Harry Potter—read the last sentence of the third paragraph in this link for a fairly typical zeitgeist--and looking at Meyer’s opening line, it’s easy to see why someone predisposed to dislike her work would argue that she and Rowling are not in the same creative league.  Meyer uses an em dash construction, misses a contraction, manages to say ‘I’ five times, and is vague.

But consider her objective.

Bella, the narrator, is a great big bottle of angst, and if one takes the leap and identifies with her, those five ‘I’s become personal.  Meyer’s words are trailing and confused, but so is the viewpoint character.  Further, her last ambiguity, ‘I would not have imagined it like this,’ serves the same foreshadowing purpose as the final clause in Rowling’s sentence.

Both Rowling and Meyer’s starter lines build story.  Just like any other good pieces of novel writing.

Next time—What’s a plot, anyway?