We meet at the chocolate shop at the Queen Victoria Market. They serve the best hot chocolates in Melbourne and we order two huge cups of foaming milk chocolate. I haven’t often seen Logi-Gal out of costume. In a strange twist on most Heroes, she doesn’t wear glasses in everyday life and wears a long blonde wig as a disguise. Throw in jeans and a T-shirt, plus no cape, and I have trouble recognising her. Until she speaks, of course. ‘My input was negligible and I believe I understand the symptoms that underlie my inability to contribute in a meaningful way when it mattered,’ she says. ‘And now again, in English . . .’ I sigh. ‘That was correct English, Focus. It’s just that your vocabulary is not yet adequate for such complexity of language.’ ‘Point well made and taken,’ I say, sipping my chocolate. ‘So what are you actually saying?’ She looks small, her shoulders hunched. ‘I was crap the other night. I was hopeless. The Gamer had to rescue me, for Pete’s sake.
