I’m a little surprised that I’ve been getting inquiries about this, but let’s get it out of the way. Yes, I invented PowerPaste.
Yeah, the stuff you see at GNC, Vitamin Shoppe, and lots of other retailers. At the time of this writing, there are twelve flavors. And like most inventions, it was born out of necessity.
To quote from Reckoning:
One of the drawbacks of my particular abilities is that energy doesn’t just come from nowhere. Humans get energy from food. My altered cells were more efficient at converting food to energy, but I still needed to eat a lot. In fact, if I were to recount my average daily food intake, it would astound you. Suffice to say that hobbits have nothing on me.
I don’t adhere to the standard three meals a day regimen. In fact, I eat fewer full meals than most people do. Instead, I eat several calorie-dense mini-meals throughout the course of the day. I supplement with high doses of vitamins because sometimes I go a week without eating vegetables. Not out of any dislike for them, but because they fill me up without giving me the calories I need. On days when I’m “off duty,” I’ll often eat nothing but veggies, in fact.
I won’t lie. I do love the fact that I’m able to eat whatever I like without gaining weight. A couple pints of Ben & Jerry’s every day? Don’t mind if I do. For a previously overweight girl, it was a dream come true.
Except when it was a nightmare. Like the time I ran out of energy while fighting the meta known as Blacknight. For those of you who don’t remember him (he died of cancer in 2006), he focused mainly on jewelry store jobs. He wore sleek black armor, including a medieval-style helmet. Probably not the best get-up for a thief who needs to get away and stay out of sight, but no one ever accused those on the other side of the law of being intelligentsia.
In my battle with him, I’d expended a lot of energy. His armor was darned effective. Eventually, I landed a blow that cracked the fitting of his helmet, causing the faceplate to come loose. But it was the last I had in me. I literally felt my energy level plummet and knew I was spent.
So I bluffed. When the visor fell away from his face, I looked him in the eye, fist poised for another crushing blow, and growled something at him. He knew one of my punches to his naked face would result in a huge dental bill, so he surrendered. Luckily for me.
After that, I swore I’d find a way to prevent such power outages without having to eat an elephant for breakfast every day.
My genetics work had focused on converting calories to energy, but I realized I needed to learn all I could about calories themselves. Without going into the tedious details, I spent months coming up with a formula for a super-high calorie supplement. There are many out on the market, including over-the-counter powders for bodybuilders and products manufactured for hospital use. I used these last as starting points since, unsurprisingly, there are too many of the OTC products that are scams.
After playing around with glucose polymer chains and whatnot, I eventually came up with a super-dense, high-calorie substance with the consistency – and flavor – of library paste. I added flavoring, of course, in the form of honey or chocolate or peanut butter. Nothing lacking calories.
I packaged the stuff in snack-size zipper bags and carried half a dozen or so with me on patrol, which wasn’t easy with my outfit. I find it funny that the snack bags are advertised as being perfect for holding the trendy 100-calorie portions of snacks. Filled with Dynapaste, each bag holds about 3,000 calories. And no, I didn’t really call it that.
Okay, yes, I did.
As revolting as the stuff was, even with flavor added, it really did work. Over the next several months, I deliberately pushed myself to the brink of energy failure. And sucking down a baggie of the paste never failed to restore me quickly. I was pretty proud of myself for coming up with it. Naturally, I filed the paperwork to patent the formula. That sort of thing is drilled into us scientists.
Some time later, I was browsing the web for biotech news. Like most people, I usually ignore the ads that clutter the news pages, but this day, one caught my eye. It was for a company that sold metabolic enhancers and a variety of supplements for bodybuilders, athletes, and people ashamed of their bodies. The picture accompanying the ad was of an emaciated kid looking in a mirror at an imagined muscular version of himself. The reflection was, inexplicably, a few inches taller, too. I wondered how a supplement was supposed to accomplish that. But as I stared at the bony kid in the picture, an idea struck me. I clicked through and was taken to the company’s site, where I found the contact information I needed.
A week later, I sat in a meeting with that company’s Vice President of Development and a couple of his senior staff. I pitched Dynapaste to them as a potential product. The science boys looked over the paperwork I’d provided and examined the sample I’d brought.
Well, you can guess what happened next.
They changed the name, added vitamins and minerals, and packaged them in tiny packets (a bit larger than a fast food ketchup packet), that held about 500 calories of the stuff. Later, they came out with the full-sized version with 3000 calories, which is primarily pitched to metas, I think.
Had I been more well-known at the time, I’m sure they would have wanted Dynamistress to shill the product. They might even have kept the Dynapaste name. But that obviously never happened.
I receive quarterly deposits, residuals from my percentage of the sales. At first, it was a respectable amount of money. These days, the popularity of the stuff is soaring. And yes, so is my income. (Not bragging… some of you really did ask.)
So that’s the story of PowerPaste. Not exactly the most exciting thing you’re likely to read this week, but there you have it.
Oh, and yes… PowerPaste tastes infinitely better than my original concoction.
Feel free to pass along flavor suggestions! Now that I’m a bigger “name,” that VP of Development actually takes my calls.