TOC Part Three Thanks to Sara Kraft for BRing again, and to Sorcha for still trying to do
something with that (clearly accursed) file!
******
Production Meeting Four:
"Looks like everyone is here," Paul said, sitting down. "Great. Seth, why don't you start us off?"
"Sure thing. Internet response is holding steady. That's more than I'd usually expect, and it's great to see."
"Cool!" Kate said, speaking for everyone.
"They're a little tense with the cliffhanger," Seth continued, "but it wasn't as bad as you might expect."
Paul nodded. "It's a good thing we're including these meetings in the format of the show. Can you imagine what they'd be saying otherwise? A plot like this turned into a two-parter? ... No offense, Timmy."
Timmy waved absently, dismissing the need for an apology.
"Hey," Steph said suddenly, "did anyone catch the continuity glitch with Dan's note?"
Seth skimmed his printouts. "No, I don't think so. Why, what happened?"
She did a little double-take, seemingly surprised that she had to explain. "Oh, everything was so rushed that the note on Dan's thing vanished between one part and the next. But if no one noticed, that's good."
"Well they know about it now," Brian pointed out, gesturing to the camera filming the meeting.
Steph hit her forhead. "Oops." A moment later, the self-flagellation turned smoothly into a throwing motion. "Oh well. Never mind. Too late now."
"So what else do you have, Seth?" Paul asked, trying to get things back on track.
"Well, they seem alternately amused and impressed with Timmy's ability to work around problems but either way, they clearly like him."
"Yeah, a little too much sometimes," Timmy muttered.
"You'll be happy to know that he didn't show up this time, Timmy."
"Oh, good," Timmy responded, sitting a little straighter. "Maybe he gave up."
"Or maybe he's too busy planning or flying out here to post on the internet," Brian said.
Everyone glared at him. Everyone, that is, except for Timmy, who slumped back in his seat.
"What? ... Oh. Sorry, Timmy."
"Don't worry, Timmy," Paul said soothigly. "You'll be fine. Really."
Timmy nodded, but the gesture lacked confidence.
"Seth, what else do you have?" Paul promted.
"Well... uhm... let me see... Oh, there's this one woman..."
"Yeah?"
"She noticed that I was reading the forum where she posts, and wrote something to get herself on the air..."
"Oh, yeah. You always get a few of those." Paul glanced at Timmy, and seemed to decide that distraction was a good thing. "She have anything good to say?"
"Well, she wanted me to say that, 'There was at least one fifty-year-old lady who thought young Clark was so sexy and cute when he was shutting up and being all silent and mysterious in the last episode.'"
"Uhm, okay. Good to know," Paul said.
"Hey, everyone loves Clark!" Kate commented.
"Not when he's talking, aparantly," Brian put in.
Steph shrugged. "Guess she's into the strong, silent type."
There were some shrugs around the table. Paul turned back to Seth, a questioning look on his face.
"Uhm... what else? Oh, they were wondering about the music department."
"Music?" Brian asked. "We have music?"
"Sometimes," Kate told him.
"Oh, I guess I never noticed."
"It can slip into the background," she assured him. "Anyway, what did they want to know, Seth?"
"They were just mentioning that even though the sound guys left early yesterday, the music people probably had to work overtime."
"Oh, yeah. Different department. But working on short notice, it's usually better to see if you can use something prerecorded, anyway. We can do that in editing. And, of course, the editing crew are the ones who really had to work overtime on the last part. It's not easy for them when things are so last-minute, but we have good Saras."
Seth looked confused. "Saras?"
"Yeah, our cheif editors are both named Sara."
"Oh, right. Anyway, that's about it for the highlights. Overall, we're getting some very positive reviews."
"Great! Thanks for the report, Seth." Paul waited while everyone basked in the glow of a job well done and well appreciated.
"Oh, wait!" Seth said before Paul could move on. "I almost forgot! Timmy, this is for you." He handed the writer a hat.
"Genius at Work. Do Not Disturb," Timmy read.
"Yeah, one of the fans suggested it for you. Well, she said it should be a sign, but I thought this worked better."
There were some chuckles and applause around the table as Timmy sheepishly put the hat on.
"What about you, Steph?" Paul asked after a few moments. "Do the cast have their voices back yet?"
She nodded happily. "It looks like. A few of them might be a little hoarse, but generally they should be fine."
"Glad to hear it," Paul said with a relieved smile. "Anything else going on that I should know about?"
"Nope. For once, it looks like everything and everyone is good to go." Her hand automatically flashed him a thumbs-up to back up her words.
"Great! Brian, what about you?"
"I've got our guest villain lined up," he responded, leaning back at ease. "I had to bump back a few auditions for Gotham, but we should still be ready when it's time. We're down to the last three candidates for Bruce. Final callback is tomorrow. I've got a good feeling about one of them."
"Perfect. I'll look forward to seeing your choice, then." Paul turned his gaze to the next in line. "Kate? What have you got for me?"
She looked up from her notes, a serious expression on her face. "Lighting failure."
"What?"
"Some idiot crossed the wrong wires," she said, nervously toying with the edges of her notebook. "We lost some good lamps, and it'll take hours of repair work before we're even ready to start hanging replacements. We might need a new board, too."
"Oh boy," Paul said heavily. "What can we do?"
"Outdoor scenes," Timmy said absently, pencil flying across the page. "It's a sunny enough day out there. Tell the studio to have the backlot ready for us."
"On it," Kate announced, and that seemed to do it for the meeting.
******
Part Four:
Lois slumped in her seat, head flopped forward onto the steering wheel. The car next to her, which had hit her Jeep head-on, was a wreck. Gas leaked out of the cracked tank, spreading out in an ever-expanding puddle. It was only a matter of time before some stray spark from elsewhere in the damaged vehicle set the whole thing ablaze.
Suddenly, her door opened. Hands reached out and undid her seat belt. She fell to the side, and was neatly caught by the waiting arms of her rescuer.
The rush of fresh air woke her. She stirred, and her bleary eyes noted the flashes of red and blue from the brightly colored fabric covering the arms and chest holding her. "You came," she mouthed. "I knew you'd make it." Her lips stretched into a happy, woozy smile. After a moment, she flopped back again, content that she was in good hands.
He smiled down at her and carried her to safety. When he was sure she was clear, he headed back to get the driver of the other car. He rushed back to her as soon as the other man was secure, but something was odd. It shouldn't have taken him so long, and he hadn't done anything about the gas leak.
Lois forced herself awake. Her eyes focused on the man standing over her, looking down with a concerned expression. Dark hair, check. Handsome face, check. Red and blue outfit, check... but there were too many clashing colors and... Wait. That wasn't Superman's uniform. That was a garish hawaiian shirt. "Dan?"
He nodded and grinned, knowing better than to try to speak through the blanket of silence.
Across town, Superman saw the last of the planes make it safely to the ground. All the others had been warned off and rerouted to nearby airports. He scanned the city, and quickly locked in on Lois. He was there in a flash. An x-ray scan revealed no serious injuries, and she'd somehow escaped a concussion. Dan was obviously fine, and was quickly forgotten. The other driver was not so lucky, and the car was still leaking gas. Reluctantly leaving Lois, Superman zipped away to move the cars to a safer location and to carry the injured driver to the nearest hospital.
Several minutes later, Clark jogged over to where Lois and Dan were sitting, gesturing at each other. He was carrying two legal-sized notepads, with pens. He handed one to Lois, then shrugged apologetically at Dan, reserving the other pad for himself. Lois shared her pad with Dan, allowing all three to communicate with each other.
Everyone agreed on the obvious fact that the situation needed to be investigated, but each had his or her own ideas of how to go about it. Lois wanted to look into people with grudges against the phone company. Clark wanted to investigate the airport, to see if there were any people or packages coming in which someone might not want to arrive safely. Dan thought that the whole thing might be a distraction, to allow something to arrive at the harbor unnoticed.
They agreed to split up. Clark and Dan weren't happy about leaving Lois, but she insisted. It was clear that she had recovered and wasn't about to put up with any perceived mollycoddling.
Clark scanned her once more, to be sure, and then they all headed out, agreeing to meet again at 5pm, outside the Daily Planet.
By 5:30, they were all there. No one had found anything, to their mutual frustration.
"I wish I knew how to contact Superman," Lois wrote on her pad.
Clark raised his eyebrows. "Why?" his posture asked.
"I could ask him to fly around the city, find the edges of the bubble. Whatever is causing it is probably at the middle."
"You're brilliant!!" Clark wrote.
"I knew that," Lois responded, grinning. "Good of you to notice."
"Oh, I knew before. It's one of the reasons -- Never mind. I better go see if I can find Superman."
It was Lois's turn to raise her eyebrows, but the expression was wasted on Clark's back. She turned to Dan, who shrugged.
"Wanna go for dinner?" he mimed.
She stared at him.
He waved his hands, seeming to indicate that there was nothing else they could do.
Lois considered it a moment, then shook her head. "The city first," she wrote.
Above them, Superman flew in a weaving circle around the city, listening carefully to see where he could and could not hear. Surprisingly, the center of the bubble seemed not to be in Metropolis itself, but rather a nearby suburb. He moved around, mentally marking places on the borderline, then flew up high enough that he could see the whole thing. From that vantage, he triangulated his mental reference points to find the exact center. He flew down to find... an apiary?
The sign out front showed a friendly cartoon bee welcoming visitors to "Sabbitini and Sons Honey." Superman scanned the area. Rows of boxes containing removable squares of honey comb filled the yard. The main building clearly served several purposes, with partitions separating home, factory, and store areas. Below, in the basement, there was... a lab. Of course. He looked around for the mysterious machine he knew would be whirring and pulsating. It took a moment for him to spot it, sitting out in the open, next to the boxes with the bee hives.
A nondescript man -- barely more than a kid, really -- in casual clothes stood next to the machine. His jaw dropped when he saw Superman landing in front of him.
The hero imperiously gestured for the device to be turned off, with the implied threat that he would take care of it himself, if he had to.
The man fairly ran to the switch. He flipped it off. Soon, a ripple went through the air, and sound returned.
"What's wrong, Superman?" he asked, with a concerned expression on his face.
Superman looked at him disbelievingly. "What's wrong? You blanket the entire city in silence, nearly kill countless people at the airport and on the road, cause massive panic, and you're asking me what's *wrong*?"
"Oh my gosh! I did all that? I had no idea! The bubble wasn't supposed to extend past the edges of the farm!"
"What were you trying to do?"
"It's the bees. I'm... allergic. I thought if I could ground them, I'd be able to help out without worrying about my own safety."
"And this machine..."
"Was designed to do that, yes. You see, bees use something called 'vortex shedding' to fly. Their wings are flat, not curved like on an airplane. Each flap makes a tiny disturbance in the air, a brief miniature whirlwind centered around the low pressure zone created by the displacement of the air. Most people are used to ignoring the effect as negligible, but it's just enough to hold a bee up until the next flap. Without it, they wouldn't be able to fly at all. So, I thought if I could make the air resistant to vibrations..."
"You'd keep the bees from being able to keep them from being able to get at you."
"Exactly. I guess I did a better job building it than I thought, though... I'm so sorry." He looked genuinely disturbed by the thought of what he'd inadvertently caused.
"Have you ever considered that maybe beekeeping wasn't really your field?"
He frowned, confused. "What? But it's the family business. What else would I do?"
Superman gestured at the machine. "Something in science, perhaps? I'm sure there are plenty of companies who would be happy to employ someone capable of designing and building something like this."
"Huh. You think?"
"I'm sure of it." He moved his hand, fishing a business card out of... somewhere. "Here, this is the contact information for Dr. Bernard Klein at STAR Labs. Tell him I sent you. I'm sure he'll be able to find something for you, or at least point you in a good direction."
He took the card, beaming. He practically glowed with excitement. "Wow! Thank you, Superman!"
"You're welcome. And next time... be more careful at the test stage."
"I sure will!"
Superman smiled, waved, and flew off. Unbelievable.
(Tune in to
Part Five on Sunday!)
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