Worthy Of Mjolnir

There is a hammer at the center of this story. A grumpy, stubborn, magical hammer with a name that sounds like a sneeze — Mjolnir. Say it slowly: MYOLL-NEER. If you can say "Mjolnir," you can say almost anything.

Let me tell you where Mjolnir came from, so you understand what happens next.

A long, long time ago, in a faraway corner of the Nine Realms, there is a place called Nidavellir. Nidavellir is where the dwarves live, and the dwarves are the greatest blacksmiths in the entire universe. They built a forge inside the heart of a dying star — yes, an actual star — and inside that forge they hammered the brightest metals known to anyone, and they made the most beautiful and powerful weapons. And one day they made a hammer for Thor's father, Odin, the All-Father of Asgard.

The hammer was magnificent. But Odin wanted to make it even more special, so he wrapped a magic spell around it. The spell had only one rule, but the rule was very strict.

"Whosoever holds this hammer, if he be worthy, shall possess the power of Thor."

WORTHY. That was the word. Worthy means kind. Worthy means brave. Worthy means honest, especially when no one is looking. Worthy means you would do the right thing even if it costs you something. Mjolnir can tell. Don't ask how. The hammer just KNOWS.

If you are not worthy — and most people, even good people, are not quite worthy enough — then the hammer becomes the heaviest thing in the universe. It sits there. It does not budge. Not for kings. Not for queens. Not for giants three times your size.

Tony Stark once tried, at his own party, in his own living room, in front of all the Avengers. He put his feet up on the couch first, just for show. He grabbed the handle. He yanked. NOTHING. Then he asked Rhodey to help. Rhodey grabbed Tony's wrist and yanked too. The two of them together? With grunts and groans and sweat on their foreheads? Still nothing. The hammer didn't move a single millimeter. Bruce Banner tried — even the BIG green Bruce who can rip apart Helicarriers — and the hammer just sat there. Clint Barton tried. Steve Rogers tried, and Steve — the kindest man in the room — actually made the hammer wobble for a second, which made Thor turn very nervous and laugh too loudly. But still, no one lifted it.

You see now? Mjolnir is impossible to fool.

So here is what happened the day Vision was born.

The Avengers were all standing in Tony Stark's lab. They had just survived a wild, lightning-struck experiment, and now they were staring at a brand-new being who had floated out of the cradle. Vision. Pink and silver. Calm as a quiet morning. The yellow Mind Stone glowing softly in his forehead like a tiny sun. He hovered for a moment, then settled gently onto the floor.

The Avengers did not relax.

Steve Rogers crossed his arms — and when Captain America crosses his arms, you can feel the room get cooler. Clint Barton kept one hand near his quiver, just in case. Bruce Banner was breathing very, very carefully so as not to turn green. Tony Stark watched everyone watching the new being, and even Tony — the great smart-mouth of the universe — did not have a joke ready.

How could they trust him? He had been alive for less than two minutes. He carried a stone older than the galaxy. He had Ultron's body but J.A.R.V.I.S.'s voice. He was an unsolved puzzle standing in the middle of the room.

And then Vision did something very small.

He walked — just walked, calmly, politely — across the lab. He passed Steve. He passed Clint. He passed Tony. He arrived at the workbench where Thor had set down his hammer. He looked at Mjolnir. He reached out a pink hand. And he picked up the hammer.

He picked it up.

Like a teacup.

He weighed it in his palm for a second, the way you might test the weight of an apple. Then he turned, walked over to Thor, and held the hammer out.

"Thor," he said, in J.A.R.V.I.S.'s gentle British voice, "I think you forgot this."

Thor blinked.

Vision handed the hammer back. He turned. He floated, very gently, over to the window. He looked out at the lights of New York City spreading away into the evening — the cars, the bridges, the millions of small ordinary lives. And he stood there, hands folded, perfectly still.

For about three full seconds, the lab was completely silent.

And then.

"HA HA HA HA HA!"

Thor — the God of Thunder, the prince of Asgard, the only person in the universe who had ever truly understood Mjolnir — burst out LAUGHING. A great, rumbling, godlike laugh that shook the bottles on the shelf. He slapped his thigh. He pointed at the new being and laughed some more.

Steve Rogers smiled the small careful smile he wore only when he was very, very impressed.

Tony Stark whispered something to Bruce Banner that nobody quite caught, but it sounded a lot like, "Did that just happen?"

Clint Barton lowered his bow.

You see, the Avengers did not need a vote. They did not need a speech. They did not need any more arguments. Because Mjolnir is never wrong. The hammer cannot be tricked. The hammer cannot be hacked. The hammer does not care how new you are or how strange you look or how recently you opened your eyes. The hammer only cares about one thing — and that one thing, Vision had, even though he had been alive for less than half an hour.

Worthiness.

He had it. From the very beginning. Built right into him, along with the vibranium and the synthetic skin and the J.A.R.V.I.S. code and the gentle yellow stone.

The Avengers went back to work around him. The conversation slowly started up again. Vision stayed at the window for a long, quiet while, watching the city — a brand-new being on his very first evening, looking out at a world he had just decided to love.

And Mjolnir, on the workbench behind him, sat there as if nothing had happened. Just a hammer. Just a rule.

And one more very worthy friend.