Recovered from archived instant-message correspondence

  Participants: Miss Martian (M’gann M’orzz) ? Martian Manhunter (J’onn J’onzz)

  Exchange Log Date: Feb 12, 2045

  Note: Portions of this exchange have been redacted through Martian cognitive blockages. Redactions appear to be self-applied.

  M. Morse:

  Hi Uncle J’onn!

  Quick question. Possibly not a quick question.

  I will try to be normal about it.

  J. J’onzz:

  Yes?

  M. Morse:

  Okay.

  So. Hypothetically.

  If someone were near a piece of advanced technology that turned up in Metropolis—

  Not officially examining it. Just… nearby. Adjacent. Accidentally informed.

  Would you expect it to feel heavy for its size even if the materials don’t seem to justify it?

  J. J’onzz:

  Define heavy.

  M. Morse:

  Dense. Compressed.

  Like too much intention in too little space.

  It fits in one hand, but when you lift it there’s a moment where your brain recalculates, because it doesn’t weigh what it looks like it should.

  Not enough to alarm anyone. Just enough to register if you’re paying attention.

  There’s no visible power source. No seams. No ports.

  But it’s warm.

  Not hot.

  Not active anymore. Though I think earlier—when the rest of the League was looking at it—it showed irregular activity spikes.

  Now it’s just… warm.

  In the way something living is warm even when it’s asleep.

  J. J’onzz:

  Presence.

  M. Morse:

  Yes. Exactly.

  Thank you.

  It doesn’t do anything when you touch it.

  No pulse. No spike. No response.

  It feels like it expects attention eventually, but not now.

  Like it was built with patience as a basic assumption.

  The surface is smooth in a way that feels intentional rather than refined.

  No maker’s marks. No decorative logic.

  Nothing about it says “use me,” but nothing says “don’t,” either.

  It feels designed for people who already know what it is.

  J. J’onzz:

  And psychically?

  M. Morse:

  That’s the part that keeps distracting me.

  There’s noise.

  But not noise like interference, or distress, or crowding.

  It’s layered. Muted.

  Like several thoughts deliberately standing very still, each one politely giving the others space.

  When I reach for it, nothing reacts.

  No recoil. No curiosity. No warning.

  It’s like knocking on a door and realizing the house is occupied, but no one answers—not because they can’t hear you.

  Because they don’t need to.

  J. J’onzz:

  Deliberate.

  M. Morse:

  That’s what I thought.

  And what’s bothering me most isn’t really the device.

  It’s that I keep adjusting around it.

  Automatically.

  Before I even decide to.

  I catch myself smoothing the edges—lowering contrast, making it easier to sit with—like that’s just the polite thing to do.

  As if it would be rude to notice too sharply.

  That made me think of the obfuscation techniques you taught me when I was younger.

  The everyday Green Martian ones.

  The kind people used so neighbors wouldn’t overhear dreams, or grief, or arguments they weren’t meant to be part of.

  J. J’onzz:

  Those were common.

  M. Morse:

  Exactly. Normal. Social.

  Not secrecy as defense.

  Secrecy as courtesy.

  And this feels like that—but applied to technology.

  Not hiding it.

  Just making it socially invisible.

  Like it’s standing in the middle of the room and trusting everyone else to look away.

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  J. J’onzz:

  Old method. Applied oddly.

  M. Morse:

  That’s what made me pause.

  Because people don’t usually use old methods unless they expect the audience to understand them.

  Or at least tolerate them.

  I think I’m noticing it more lately because I’ve been around Conner so much.

  He doesn’t blur. At all.

  Standing next to him makes it harder not to notice when I do.

  He reacts to things directly—physically, emotionally.

  There’s no polite distance with him. No smoothing.

  So the contrast gets louder.

  J. J’onzz:

  That can happen.

  M. Morse:

  I haven’t told anyone else.

  Robin isn’t involved— mostly because Conner doesn't seem to like him and i pushing things might make me seem less… cheerful i guess

  He’s good with systems, patterns, workarounds.

  Just not Martian ones. Not like this.

  And neither of us wanted him to make it a whole thing before we were sure it was actually… ya know, a thing

  J. J’onzz:

  Understood.

  M. Morse:

  There’s another layer to this, and I’m trying very hard not to handle it clumsily.

  Part of why this pattern feels familiar to me is because

  [REDACTED – MARTIAN OBSCURANCE IDENTIFIED. Damian, please stop reading here. This is not for you.]

  Which means my instincts around it probably aren’t neutral.

  J. J’onzz:

  …

  M. Morse:

  I know.

  I’m not saying it out loud anywhere it doesn’t need to be said.

  I haven’t even really said it here.

  But it does mean I recognize the shape of this kind of quiet differently than most people would.

  And if I explained why in the wrong room, the conversation would change before anyone knew what they were actually asking.

  J. J’onzz:

  You are correct.

  M. Morse:

  So I’m keeping my language gentle.

  [REDACTED – MARTIAN OBSCURANCE IDENTIFIED. Damian, this doesn’t belong in this record.]

  J. J’onzz:

  Caution is wise.

  M. Morse:

  I don’t really know how to feel about all this… editing.

  [REDACTED – MARTIAN OBSCURANCE IDENTIFIED. Leave.]

  J. J’onzz:

  That is understandable.

  M. Morse:

  Can I ask something hypothetical?

  Purely theoretical.

  No implications. No conclusions.

  If someone built a device meant to listen for a very long time—not to intercept, but to wait—

  Would you expect it to feel unfinished?

  Not broken.

  Just… incomplete on purpose.

  Like it’s missing the last instruction because the last instruction depends on something external.

  J. J’onzz:

  Yes.

  M. Morse:

  That’s what this feels like.

  Like it’s waiting for an environment rather than a signal.

  For a condition rather than a command.

  Like it doesn’t care who finds it, as long as it eventually ends up where it’s meant to be.

  J. J’onzz:

  Context matters.

  M. Morse:

  It always does.

  Which is another reason I want to keep this off official channels for now.

  And I think that’s why Conner does too.

  No reports. No summaries. No formal language.

  Just observation.

  Careful notes.

  And masks.

  The nice ones still work very well.

  J. J’onzz:

  Do they?

  M. Morse:

  Most of the time.

  [REDACTED – MARTIAN OBSCURANCE IDENTIFIED.]

  Thank you for answering without making me spell things out.

  That helps more than you know.

  I love you.

  J. J’onzz:

  I am here.

  Notes — Robin (Personal Working Folder):

  Data Language: Default System Output

  Translation Process: Automated Conversion

  Target Language: English… Confirmed

  Status: Complete

  Martian cognitive obfuscation remains intact. No viable workarounds identified.

  Assessment: this is not a general technical failure. My experience with Martian systems is limited, and what familiarity I do have is almost entirely Green Martian in origin, and is insufficient to bypass protections that either Martian clearly does not want accessed. The underlying logic does not map cleanly onto Earth-based encryption, signal masking, or conventional data-scrubbing models.

  This represents a knowledge gap, not a skill gap. Further progress would require deeper Martian technical context, prolonged exposure, or explicit cooperation. None of these conditions are currently available.

  Notably, Martian Manhunter appears unwilling to provide the necessary framework for decryption. Additionally, indicators suggest that the obfuscation was applied deliberately and selectively, likely by M’gann herself.

  Conclusion: this is an intentional barrier, not a flaw. Access is being denied, not resisted.