Tuesday afternoon. Slow day. Leonard stopped by during lunch to help reorganize the back issue bins—apparently he finds alphabetizing relaxing, which is very Leonard—and we're debating whether to separate Batman by creative team or just chronological order.
"Chronological is cleaner," Leonard argues, filing another comic.
"But then you lose the Morrison run coherence."
"You can't organize by every creative team. That's chaos."
"Organized chaos."
The bell chis. We both look up.
And Wil Wheaton walks into my shop.
Wil Wheaton. Star Trek: The Next Generation. Stand By . Currently has a web series that's getting popular.
Leonard makes a noise sowhere between a squeak and a gasp. The comic in his hand drops to the floor.
Wil is browsing the new releases like this is totally normal. Baseball cap pulled low. Casual jacket. He's clearly trying to be incognito, which is working right up until Leonard breathes, "Oh my god."
"Leonard," I say quietly. "Be cool."
"That's Wil Wheaton."
"I know."
"In your shop."
"I know."
"How are you so calm?"
Because I've already processed that I'm living in a TV universe where this kind of thing happens. Also because the Magnetism power is apparently drawing industry people to my shop.
"He's just a custor," I say instead, then walk over. "Can I help you find anything?"
Wil looks up, smiles. "Just browsing. Heard good things about this place from so people at the convention last month."
"Oh yeah? What'd you hear?"
"That the owner actually knows his stuff. Doesn't just stock whatever Diamond pushes. Has good instincts for quality over quantity." He picks up the new Y: The Last Man trade. "Like carrying this. Most shops around here focus on Marvel and DC, skip the Vertigo stuff."
"Vertigo's got so of the best writing in comics right now."
"Agreed." He flips through it, interested. "You read a lot of independent publishers?"
"Everything I can get my hands on. Image, Dark Horse, Vertigo. The good storytelling isn't limited to the big two."
We fall into conversation naturally. He asks about my recomndations for mature readers. I suggest Preacher, Sandman, Transtropolitan. He's read most of them but likes hearing another perspective. We end up discussing narrative structure in comics versus television for twenty minutes.
Leonard is still frozen near the back issue bins.
"Your friend okay?" Wil asks, amused.
"He's a big Next Generation fan. Little starstruck."
"Ah." Wil raises his voice slightly. "Hey. Leonard, right? You work at Caltech?"
Leonard manages to nod.
"Physics?"
"Experintal."
"Cool. My ex-girlfriend was in physics. Well, one of them. I seem to date scientists." He turns back to . "I'll take these three." Y: The Last Man, the new Fables trade, and a random issue of The Authority.
While I'm ringing him up, the bell chis again.
Oh no.
Sheldon walks in—early for tomorrow's Wednesday pickup—sees Wil Wheaton, and his entire body goes rigid.
"You," Sheldon says, voice tight with barely controlled fury.
Wil's expression cycles through recognition and resignation. "Let guess. You're still mad about the convention thing."
"'Mad' is insufficient. You betrayed the fundantal principles of Star Trek by—"
"Sheldon." I step between them physically. "Hey. Whatever happened, we're not doing this in the shop."
"But—"
"No buts. Shop rules. Everyone's respectful or everyone leaves."
Sheldon looks torn between rage and his respect for rules. The rules win. Barely.
"Fine. But I want it noted that Wesley Crusher was the worst character in Next Generation and his portrayal damaged the series' credibility."
Wil actually laughs. "Okay, that's fair. I was like fifteen and the writers gave terrible dialogue. Can't argue with that."
"The 'shut up Wesley' episodes were statistically the highest rated."
"Also fair."
The tension breaks. Sheldon's still glowering but he's listening. Wil starts talking about TNG production, the actual behind-the-scenes dynamics. Sheldon can't resist engaging—he knows too much Trek lore to stay silent.
Soon they're in a full debate about whether TNG season three was the real turning point or if it was season four. Leonard has recovered enough to join in. I'm just watching, amazed, as Wil Wheaton casually discusses Star Trek with three die-hard fans in my comic shop on a Tuesday afternoon.
The Magnetism power. It brought him here. And now he's just... here.
Eventually Wil checks his watch. "I should head out. But hey—" He pulls out a card, hands it to . "I do a podcast, talk about geeky stuff, comic recomndations. Would you be interested in maybe doing a crossover thing? I ntion your shop, you keep my recomndations in stock?"
I take the card, trying not to look too eager. "Yeah, absolutely."
"Cool. I'll email you." He grabs his bag of comics. "Oh, and you should co to more industry events. Conventions, preview nights, that kind of thing. You've got good taste and you're not weird about celebrities. That's rare."
"I just treat people like people."
"See, that's what I'm talking about." He waves at the group. "Later, guys. Sheldon, Wesley Crusher still sucks. You're right."
"Thank you for the validation," Sheldon says stiffly.
After Wil leaves, there's a mont of complete silence.
Then Leonard grabs my shoulders. "What. Was. That?"
"A custor?"
"Wil Wheaton was in your shop. You had a twenty-minute conversation with Wil Wheaton about comics. He gave you his card. He's going to ntion your shop on his podcast."
"Sounds about right."
"HOW ARE YOU SO CALM ABOUT THIS?"
I shrug, genuinely not sure how to explain. "I don't know. He's just a guy who likes comics? Why would I freak out?"
"Because he's famous!"
"He's also a custor. Would you want soone freaking out at you while you're just trying to shop?"
Leonard opens his mouth. Closes it. "That's... actually a really good point."
Sheldon is examining the card Wil left with the intensity of a cri scene investigator. "This email address appears legitimate. The podcast URL matches his social dia presence. I believe his offer was genuine."
"Of course it was genuine," I say. "Why wouldn't it be?"
"Because you're a small shop owner in Pasadena and he's an established entertainnt industry figure. The asymtry of status typically precludes authentic collaboration."
"Or maybe he just likes supporting shops that carry good comics."
Howard arrives late, missing the whole thing. When Leonard explains, he actually sits down on the floor.
"I can't believe I missed Wil Wheaton."
"He'll probably co back," I say. "If we stock what he recomnds."
"How are you so casual about this?" Howard looks up at . "Seriously, what's your secret? You make friends with everyone. That guy who bought all your Iron Fist comics. The collectors who keep coming back. Now Wil Wheaton. What's your deal?"
I have supernatural powers that make people want to collaborate with , developed from absorbing temporal energy in the void between dinsions.
"I just... talk to people? Be genuine? Don't be weird?"
"Revolutionary advice," Leonard says dryly. But he's smiling.
After they leave—still debating whether Wesley Crusher actually ruined TNG—I look at Wil's card. Real contact info. Real collaboration opportunity.
The Magnetism power is working. Faster and stronger than I expected.
Industry people are noticing my shop. Seeking it out. Wanting to work with . And I'm playing it cool because if I let myself think too hard about what this ans—
I might realize I'm cheating. Using supernatural advantages to build success that should take years of legitimate networking and relationship-building.
But Wil Wheaton chose to co here. Chose to talk to . Chose to offer collaboration.
The power opened the door. I walked through it.
That's fair, right?
Right?
I put the card in my wallet and try to ignore the guilt.
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