Sign of the Times:
Only the Beginning
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The code ran smoothly. Jordan stretched and stood up to grab a drink from the mini-fridge behind him. Resuming his seat at the tiny table, he studied the laptop screen, making sure everything looked right from the user side of things. It seemed decent as far as he could tell, so after a sip of beer and few more small tests, he sent the latest update off to Ms Grant.
The owner of Grant Enterprises was a delight to work for: clear on what she wanted yet able to take suggestions. True, she was one of those who preferred a meeting over an email, but at least she never complained about his interpreter “waving his hands around” while she was talking. That last detail really shouldn't have been anything to consider, but sadly, it catapulted her into his short list of favorite clients.
A request for a video call popped up. Surprised, Jordan accepted. Had Ms Grant somehow hit the button by accident? Probably not, since as soon as the call connected, she smiled and waved at him. After a brief hesitation, she lifted her hands: “Website beautiful!”
Jordan stared at her, stunned. His own hands seemed to move on autopilot. “Thank you.”
She grinned, clearly pleased with herself.
“You sign?!”
Ms. Grant paused for a moment, concentrating. Her fingers formed letters, though the turning of her wrist betrayed that she'd learned them from that famous alphabet chart. “L-E-A-R-N-I-N-G.”
“Learning.” He supplied the sign, smiling at her. “That's wonderful!”
Her eyes sparkled. “Want a hot grind?”
Jordan's eyebrows climbed into his hair.
When he failed to respond, Ms Grant frowned. Her forehead scrunched with thought for a moment. “C-O-F-F-E-E.”
Oh! “Coffee,” he gently corrected. Well, it wouldn't be the most professional thing to do, but then, their contract was nearly finished, so... Why not? It was only a cup of coffee...
**********
“Sorry I'm so late this time.” Jordan hung his jacket on one of the pegs in the entry hall, idly noting that it had been redecorated again. The sculpture of Modern Aphrodite was gone, replaced by one of the curio cabinets from the second parlor, and it took him a moment to locate the abstract nude self-portrait on a different wall.
Cat smiled at him without a trace of irritation and ushered him into the dining room. Once he was seated, she ducked into the kitchen and returned with two hot sandwiches on a baking tray. They smelled heavenly.
She motioned for him to eat, and while he tucked into his food, she lounged in the seat across from him with her own sandwich and a glass of wine. “Tough day?”
He nodded and removed one hand from his sandwich so he could reply. “My mom needed me to work late.”
Her eyebrows raised in surprise. “You're making something for your mother?”
“Nothing like that.” He took another bite and set his food down while he chewed. “My parents say that freelance work isn't reliable, so since I insist on living away from home, they got me a job in the IT department of a newspaper so I can always pay rent.”
Cat shook her head. “Nothing is reliable in life. I remember...” She thought for a moment. “N-I-G-H-T-F-A-L-L. End of the world. I will tell you, sometime.” She took a long sip of her wine. “What newspaper?”
“My mom is the editor of the Daily Planet.”
She leaned back in her chair and stared at him. “I used to work there!”
“Really?” Jordan swallowed his latest bite and grinned at her. “Maybe you met her; she's been there for years. L-O-I-S L-A-N-E.”
Her eyes widened further. “I remember her!” Cat looked him over curiously, as though she'd never seen him before. “She's your mother?!”
He nodded.
“How?!” She looked completely mystified.
With a shrug, Jordan held his hands in front of himself to indicate a pregnant belly, then went back to his sandwich.
Cat rolled her eyes, the corner of her mouth twitching. “So, is she married?”
Jordan nodded.
“With kids?”
He pointed to himself.
She shook her head in disbelief, then seemed to think for a moment. “Wait...I remember...my last year there...a cute guy who liked her. K-I-R-K?”
“C-L-A-R-K,” Jordan corrected.
She nodded. “From Iowa?”
“Kansas.”
Her eyes danced with mischief. “I remember he was very good-looking. Sexy, even.” She stared at him, thoughtfully, and her grin broadened. “You look like him.”
Jordan's ears felt warm. Cat had a way of teasing and flirting with people, and she seemed to enjoy making others completely flustered. It was nothing he had to take seriously, though. She was only a friend having a bit of fun...
**********
He landed on her balcony, barely able to keep his tears back until he was safely through the door. She immediately ran into the room, and he managed to see the “What's wrong?” before everything became too blurry.
“I screwed up!” He ripped the mask from his head and swiped at his eyes. “I tried so hard to be careful, but I messed up, and now someone is dead!”
Cat pulled him into her arms and held him for a while. Her fingers gently stroked through his hair.
Eventually, Jordan pulled back from her. “I should have waited and let my dad handle it.”
She frowned. “Your dad is in South America.”
He shook his head and trudged over to sit on the foot of her bed. “Doesn't matter. It still would have been better to wait for him than to get involved myself and make such a mess of things.” He stared at the mask now lying on the floor. “It's just as well people think I'm a robot. If they knew I was Superman's son, everyone would be too confused about how I could be such a screw-up! I should just quit now, before I start *causing* disasters.”
Her hands rested on his shoulders and she shook her head.
He glared. “I haven't done this right since Day One!”
She sank down to sit beside him. “So what? It's in the past. Gone.” Her gaze softened. “Do you know how many big failures I have in my past?”
He shook his head.
She shrugged. “Neither do I. Never look behind you: always stay focused on Now.”
Jordan sighed and fell backward onto the mattress. None of this changed the fact that he was completely incompetent as a superhero, but she had a point: he couldn't live in the past. He could only affect the present.
**********
It took a while for the spots to clear from his eyes. The man in the strange get-up was gone, and so were the annoyed League members tasked with babysitting the new guy. Even beyond that, something seemed...off.
It took Jordan a while to realize that the store fronts were completely different. Even the ones that weren't suddenly different businesses still had different displays in the windows. Older models of cars filled the streets with not a single new one in sight. A few passers-by gawked at his costume, but he was equally perplexed by how many of them wore neckties.
With an unsettling feeling growing in his stomach, he made his way to a newspaper dispenser. The tights didn't have pockets, so he couldn't buy one, but he didn't need to. He read the headline:
Car Theft On The Rise
By Lois Lane
His eyes flicked to the date in the corner, and he felt all color leave his face. 1993.
Jordan refocused on his mother's by-line. He could go to her, explain who he was...and probably get committed to an insane asylum. His dad would likely be easier to convince but harder to find; was he even in the U.S. right now?
So, he could either try to talk to his mother or find his father. He could explain that he was their son...and then promptly vanish like Marty McFly as the very knowledge of his future existence changed the course that led to it. Jordan pinched himself, just in case it had already started happening.
No getting help from Mom or Dad, then. He took a deep breath. It was only him, and now more than ever, he couldn't afford to screw up. There would be no one to catch him if he fell, no one to smooth things over for him if he made people angry, no one to repair the damage he left behind. There was no one he could even...
His eye was drawn to a young woman coming out of a shop across the street. Her hair was longer without even a trace of silver, but her smile and the confidence of her walk were unchanged.
Cat.
**********
Cat Grant casually rested a hand on her purse, unsure whether she would need the pepper-spray within. The man—and he seemed to be *quite* a man, given the tights—held out a folded piece of paper to her, but otherwise made no move.
“What is this?”
He didn't reply, and with his head completely covered by that eyeless mask, she couldn't read his expression. Was it a stick-up note? A flier for some weird new club?
He waved the paper a little, and Cat took it. Why not? It was only a piece of paper...
The Beginning...
