New People, New Places
HG Wells looked around carefully before stepping out of the machine. One always had to be careful when visiting a new world for the first time; after all, there was no telling what nasty little surprises might be left by the odd twists and turns taken by a universe's given history. He still shuddered at the memories of a Metropolis whose citizens were armed to the teeth and fearful of anything strange—it was no wonder Tempus had tried to make that world his playground for a while. Luckily, that world's Superman and recently-returned Lois Lane were able to set it on course for a brighter future.
So far, Herb couldn't see any obvious dangers around. Of course, this was Smallville, so the chances of stumbling into a landmine or a fifty-foot monster or a homicidal maniac here were...actually, not as low as he should like, now that he thought about it, but still fairly low in the grand scheme of the multiverse. It was a safer scouting point than Metropolis, anyway.
A sonic boom made him turn around, and he smiled at the sight of a familiar face emerging from a nearby cornfield. Throwing the rest of his caution to the wind, Herb called out a cheery “Good morning! Mr. Kent, I presume?”
Much to his surprise, the newcomer shook his head. “No, Sir,” the man replied. “You must be looking for my neighbor; he lives just down the road.” He pointed off into the distance, but there was something slightly odd about his mannerisms, as well as, come to think of it, his speech. Herb couldn't quite pin it down, though.
“I see,” said Herb, nodding a comprehension that he didn't actually possess. “And, er, who might you be then, my good man?”
The man grinned and shrugged. “Oh, I am just a humble farmer,” he began, tugging the straps of his overalls as if they were proof. The rest of his reply died on his lips as he noticed the machine behind Herb. “What is that?” he asked.
Herb beamed. “It's my time machine!” he answered, proudly. Let the man think he was insane if he so pleased; Herb had no reason to hide the truth. “I invented it myself.”
“Really?!” the man exclaimed, carefully looking over the vehicle. He seemed genuinely impressed, with no trace of the confusion or disbelief Herb might have expected to see on his features. “That's amazing,” the man continued, still peering at it closely. “It uses a kind of perpetual motion to build up the necessary energy, correct? But how do you compensate for the paradoxes surrounding the---er....I mean...Well boy howdy! What will folks think up next?” He grinned nervously at Herb.
Herb raised his eyebrows in surprise. “I say, are you a scientist?”
“I am a humble farmer,” the man insisted, glancing around. “Now, if you will excuse me, I must be going.” He turned and started off down the road.
Herb ran after him, struggling to keep up with the man's long strides. “Wait!” he called. “Sir, I mean you no harm. In fact, you rather resemble a close friend of mine”--he stopped to catch his breath--“from my own universe. A Mr. Clark Kent--?”
The man shook his head, not breaking his stride. “I don't know that name,” he said, not even the slightest bit winded. “The only Kents in this town are Jonathan and Martha, and the little girl they just adopted.”
Wells stopped. A little girl? He shook his head and once again ran to catch up to his escaping quarry. “But you are Kryptonian, correct?” he gasped out, wishing he were more fit.
The man stopped abruptly, causing Wells to crash into him. He turned, his face serious. “Where did you hear that word?” he asked.
Wells staggered to his feet and brushed himself off. “As I was saying,” he began, “back in my own universe, I'm close friends with Mr. Kent, as well as a certain Kryptonian known as Superman.” He gave the man a pointed look.
The man squirmed. “You say very strange things,” he said, but at least he was no longer walking away. “What do you want?”
Wells straightened his hat. “I was just thinking,” he began, “that if you happen to be a scientist with some working knowledge of Kryptonian biology, then perhaps you could help my friends. See, he is a Kryptonian, but his wife is not, and they would like to have a child; however, a scientist friend of theirs has assured them that this is impossible. Perhaps you could help them to find a solution...?”
The man sucked in a breath through his teeth. He glanced around again, then lowered his voice. “My expertise is in engineering and astrophysics, not biology,” he said.
Herb's face fell. “Oh. I see.” He drew himself up and tipped his hat. “Well, thank you for your time, and sorry to have bothered you.”
“Wait,” the man said before Herb could leave. He flashed him a brilliant grin. “I did not say that I do not accept the challenge.”
“Really?” Herb asked, brightening. “Do you think you can find an answer?”
The man shrugged. “I have seen many things happen that were supposedly 'impossible'. I don't like that word. If your friend and his wife want to come by, sometime, I'll be happy to do whatever I can to help.” He grinned again. “Besides, it would be nice for us to meet another Kryptonian, even if he is from another universe.”
Herb smiled. “Splendid!” he said. “I shall fetch them directly! Perhaps we could arrive tomorrow evening?”
The man nodded. “That sounds good to me,” he replied.
“Then it's settled,” said Herb. “Tomorrow, then.” He bid his new friend goodbye, and headed back to his machine.
The man smiled and waved as he departed. “I'll be sure to tell Lara you're coming,” he called out. “She makes a mean pot-roast!”
-End-
