The sensation of being "born" is, from a purely objective standpoint, a logistical catastrophe.
To the medical staff at Middleton General, it was a routine, albeit joyous, event. To Ann and James Possible, it was the pinnacle of their lives. But to the consciousness that had once been Daniella—and was now, irrevocably, Miriam Possible—it was like being a supercomputer suddenly downgraded to a pocket calculator that had been dipped in warm jam.
The Rebirth Flash had settled. The "Exit Interview" was a fading echo of static and sweater-vests. Now, there was only the cold, harsh reality of the physical world.
Mim took her first breath.
It wasn't a cry. It was a sharp, diagnostic intake of oxygen. As the air hit her brand-new, superconducting lungs—enhanced by the R.O.B.'s genetic "pre-seeding"—her brain didn't just wake up; it overclocked.
LOG: ATMOSPHERIC ANALYSIS...
OXYGEN: 20.9%
NITROGEN: 78.1%
PARTICULATE MATTER: 0.02% (Traces of floor wax and industrial-grade lavender scent)
STATUS: BREATHABLE, BUT SUBOPTIMAL.
Mim opened her eyes. The world was a blur of high-contrast shapes and light, but her God-Tier Intelligence was already stitching the sensory data into a coherent map. Her pupils dilated, adjusting with a speed that would have terrified a biologist, as she performed her first official "Nexus" scan of the environment.
She wasn't looking for her mother's face. She was looking at the ceiling.
STRUCTURAL INTEGRITY AUDIT: INITIALIZING...
Her gaze tracked the lines of the acoustic tiles, the placement of the sprinkler heads, and the visible seams of the load-bearing columns. Her brain, fueled by the Memory Upload of every engineering disaster ever aired on the Discovery Channel and Mech-X4, began to run a stress-test simulation in real-time.
RESULT: LACKING.
Observation 1: The ventilation ducts were mounted using standard-grade aluminum brackets. In the event of a high-frequency sonic attack—common in the Danny Phantom or Henry Danger logic—the brackets would vibrate at their resonant frequency and fail within 4.2 seconds.
Observation 2: The floor-to-ceiling support columns were reinforced with Grade-40 rebar. Mim's internal calculations showed that if a villain with Class-M strength (like a young Max Thunderman or a rogue Stitch experiment) were to impact the North wall, the resultant shockwave would cause a progressive structural collapse of the entire East Wing.
Observation 3: The emergency power backup was located in the basement, but the wiring ran through a central conduit that was not ghost-proofed. A single Class-1 poltergeist could disable the hospital's life support with a mild sneeze.
Conclusion: Middleton General Hospital was a deathtrap.
Mim let out a soft, tiny huff of annoyance. It sounded like a baby's sigh, but in her mind, it was a scathing review of the architect's professional competence.
"Look at her, Ann," a voice boomed.
James Possible leaned into Mim's field of vision. His face was a massive, blurry landscape of joy. To Mim, he was "Subject: Biological Father/Rocket Scientist." Her brain instantly recalled his entire character profile from the Kim Possible archive.
James Timothy Possible. IQ: High. Situational Awareness: Variable. Tendency to underestimate the danger of 'Space-Canoes': 100%.
"She's so... still," James whispered, reaching out a finger to touch her tiny hand. "She's not crying like Kim. She's just... looking. It's like she's judging the wallpaper."
"She's just taking it all in, James," Ann Possible said, her voice sounding exhausted but filled with maternal warmth. She was cradling the other twin—Kim—who was currently living up to her narrative potential by screaming at a frequency that Mim's internal sensors flagged as 'Auditory Nuisance: 85 Decibels.'
Mim looked at her twin.
Subject: Kimberly Ann Possible. Status: Prototype Hero. Current Kinetic Output: Inefficient but promising.
Mim reached out a tiny, uncoordinated hand and brushed it against Kim's shoulder. It wasn't an act of sibling affection; it was a Tactile Calibration. Mim wanted to feel the muscle density of the girl who would eventually be her primary "Field Agent."
Muscle density: Above average for neonatal stage. Proprioception: Exceptional. Potential for mid-air somersaults: Infinite.
Identity confirmed, Mim thought. The Twin Variable is stable.
One Hour Post-Birth – The Nursery
The hospital staff had moved the twins into the nursery for their initial observations. The room was filled with the soft glow of nightlights and the hum of monitors.
Mim lay in her plastic bassinet, her eyes wide open. While the other babies were busy dreaming of milk, Mim was currently remotely accessing the Nexus Core in Sublevel 1.
The R.O.B. had seeded the lab, but it was currently in a "Passive Sleep" state. It needed a "Primary User Handshake."
AI, Mim thought, using her neural-link. Do you copy?
A faint, electronic pulse vibrated in the back of her skull.
"User Identity: Miriam Possible. Biometric Match: 100%. Welcome back, Master Mim. The Lab is currently at zero-point-one percent power. Shall I begin the initialization sequence?"
Negative, Mim commanded. Keep the signature low. I don't want to trip any 'Global Justice' sensors or attract the attention of the 'Plumbers' just yet. I am currently in a high-security environment with suboptimal structural integrity. Start a stealth-scan of the Tri-City's public records. I want my legal trail to start now.
"Understood. I have initiated the 'Prodigy' flag insertion. By your first pediatrician appointment, the medical database will show a neural-development rate that is 'off the charts' but within the realm of a 'natural' miracle."
Good, Mim thought.
She turned her head slightly to look at the window. Through the glass, she could see the distant lights of the Tri-City. She saw the shimmering towers of Upperton and the orange glow of the Lowerton docks.
The Tri-City Anchor was holding. The world was beginning to bend toward this geographic point.
I need a companion, Mim mused, her infant mind already drifting toward the Ticky Protocol. Someone to manage the surface world while I'm stuck in this... 'toddler' phase. But first, I need a way to get out of this bassinet. This plastic is made of low-density polyethylene. If I can exert enough pressure on the latch...
She tried to move her arm, but her motor neurons were still in "Beta-Testing." Her hand flopped uselessly against the side of the bassinet.
Darn, she thought. The biological bottleneck is real.
A nurse walked into the nursery, humming a soft tune. She stopped at Mim's bassinet and looked down, smiling. "Still awake, little one? You're a curious one, aren't you?"
The nurse reached down to adjust Mim's blanket. As she did, a small, silver pin on her lapel caught the light. Mim's eyes locked onto it. It was a "Middleton Hospital Service Pin."
Steel Alloy. Magnetically reactive, Mim noted.
Using every ounce of her "God-Tier" concentration, Mim focused on the pin. She couldn't use telekinesis—the R.O.B. hadn't given her magic—but she could use High-Frequency Neural Induction. By vibrating her own brainwaves at a specific frequency, she could create a localized, micro-magnetic field.
It was a trick she'd learned from a frame-by-frame analysis of a Magneto cameo in a 90s cartoon, adapted for the physics of her current world.
The pin on the nurse's lapel twitched.
The nurse stopped humming. "That's strange. I feel a bit... tingly." She rubbed her chest and then laughed. "Must be the coffee."
She tucked Mim in and walked away.
Mim let out a tiny, triumphant bubble of spit.
First Calculation: Complete, she thought. First Physical Manipulation: Successful. Result: I can influence my environment even in this limited form.
She looked at Kim in the bassinet next to her. Kim was finally asleep, her tiny chest rising and falling in perfect rhythm.
Sleep while you can, Kim, Mim thought. Because in exactly twelve months, I'm going to start your training. We're going to need a hero to protect this 'Lacking' hospital. And I'm going to need a sister who can jump over the crumbling columns I've already predicted.
Mim Possible closed her eyes. Her first day on Earth was only an hour old, and she had already redesigned the hospital, hacked the local medical records, and established a neural link with her subterranean empire.
She drifted off to sleep, her mind already calculating the exact nutritional requirements for her next bottle.
The First Breath was over. The First Calculation was a success.
The world had no idea what was coming.
[SAGA 1: PROGRESS 15%]
[CURRENT WEALTH: $0.00 (But I've already spotted a stock market glitch)]
[NEXT EVENT: THE Toddler ARCHITECT (THE FIRST ESCAPE)]