14
“I still can’t believe Daddy invited you to his presentation this morning,” Lois says as she pulls the Jeep into the parking garage below the Daily Planet. She maneuvers skillfully into an empty spot near the elevators and smiles at me broadly. My heart does a flip-flop; I love to see her smiling. “I mean, you managed to smooth out six months of animosity in just a few minutes. That was quite a feat, you know. Did you learn anything that might help you to write that story?”
“Not too much. It was all quite technical and detailed,” I answer. I unfasten my seatbelt and hop out to open the door for her. She shakes her head slightly, but allows me to help her out of the car. “I did get to speak with a representative from the APDA afterwards, and she had some good ideas,” I explain, closing the door behind her. “I’ll follow up after I run the idea by Perry later.”
As I follow Lois to the elevators, her shoulders tense, and she crosses her arms over her chest. I stand a few feet back to give her space as she stops and presses the ‘up’ button. A moment later, the elevator arrives; however, she doesn’t move to get on, and it closes and starts back up. I hear her take several short, shallow breaths, and her hand trembles as she once again presses the ‘up’ button. I reach out and place a gentle hand on her shoulder.
“Lois, we can wait still, you know, if you’re not ready. Perry will understand,” I suggest, my voice quiet.
She turns to me, and I see she is still managing to hold back her tears. But only barely. The elevator dings again, and the doors open. Quickly, maybe before she can change her mind, she grasps my hand and tugs me after her into the elevator.
“And last night—the cruise ship and then Aleppo,” she says, changing the subject quickly. “That fighting in the Middle East started just after…well, you know, about three months ago.” She falters and leans into me slightly. I squeeze her hand reassuringly. She continues. “It’s gotten progressively worse. And Russia has taken the side of the rebels. They may have been behind the attacks on Aleppo last night.”
I close my eyes for a moment, trying not to relive the devastation I’d seen the night before. Thousands of civilians were killed or lost their homes and families and had nowhere to go. I felt like I’d been able to do very little except stop some incoming attacks and move the injured out of the area; there had already been too much destruction by the time I’d arrived. After I had stopped several missiles from hitting their targets, I flew in and spoke to the leader of the rebel army at the front line of fighting and convinced them to respect a ceasefire so civilians could get out of the area. Being fluent in Arabic certainly did help. For several hours, I then continued to help transport injured victims and terrified civilians to safety. By the time I’d arrived back in Metropolis, I’d had to shower, change, and get to the medical conference, where I’d listened to Sam Lane speak about the clinical trials of his neurosurgical technique in patients with Parkinson’s disease. Even for Superman, the last twenty-four hours have been exhausting.
“I think they are still respecting the ceasefire I…requested…last night,” I explain quietly. “I hope it lasts. But it’s a complex situation over there. Maybe too complex for Superman to fix. I don’t know.”
The elevator doors open to the bustling newsroom, and we step out together, her hand gripping mine securely. She leans into me as the Monday midmorning hustle of the newsroom comes to a grinding halt; all eyes shift to us, and I find myself hesitating as my own insecurities suddenly hit me.
Everyone look at the alien. He’s not one of us, and he never will be. He thinks he’s helping, flying around in brightly colored tights. Everyone laugh at the alien. “Clark?” Lois’s voice tugs at me, and I shake myself as I look at her sharply. She seems to have regained her confidence as I’ve lost mine. “Jimmy is coming. Jimmy Olsen. Are you ready to meet him?”
“Yes.” I nod quickly and shift my gaze around the room again. Several colleagues wave and smile. A few shout, “Clark! Welcome back!” or “Hey, Clark! Good to see you!” I smile tightly. A young man whom I recognize as Jimmy Olsen, dressed in dark blue jeans and a gray and red T-shirt, jogs up the ramp toward the elevators.
“CK! Oh, this is the best day ever!”
His huge smile is something I’ve seen only once before, when I visited the Daily Planet in the other Lois’s universe and needed that Jimmy’s help with some research. In my world, Mr. Olsen, Editor-in-Chief, definitely does not smile like that—at least not to me. Lois squeezes my hand and then steps away as Jimmy grabs me in a big bear hug. I return his hug, patting him on the back amicably, and he steps back. My tension eases a bit. No one is staring at me thinking I don’t belong, nervously worrying about my heat vision, wondering if I’m going to call in my alien army at any moment. They all see me as Clark Kent—mild-mannered reporter, Pulitzer-winning writer, colleague, friend, and fiancé to Lois Lane.
“Jimmy, good to see you,” I say, smiling back at him. I pat him on the shoulder and move back closer to Lois.
“I can’t believe it, CK. I—”
“Jimmy! Don’t smother the man, give him some space.” Perry White’s voice booms from the other side of the newsroom, and we all look over in unison. Perry stands in the doorway to his office, grinning from ear to ear. He forces a gruff tone, although he’s still smiling. “And where’re those photographs of Superman helping with that cruise ship last night? We need those for the afternoon edition.”
“Right on it, Chief!” Jimmy answers. He turns back to me and shrugs. “Some things never change, huh, CK? We should get together when you’re free! Drinks on me.” He smiles again and heads off toward the darkroom, waving as he goes.
From back across the newsroom, Perry motions at us. “Clark, get on over here, son, and let’s chat a bit,” he suggests, and he retreats into his office.
Next to me, Lois starts forward. However, I don’t move yet. From a few feet ahead of me, she turns back toward me. Our eyes meet, and her weak smile chases away a bit of my uncertainty and gives me strength.
“Are you coming?” she asks gently.
I nod mutely and follow her. As I did for her earlier, she offers me her hand, and I accept.
“Sorry,” I whisper as we walk, hand in hand, down the ramp into the bullpen. “It’s all a little overwhelming.”
She lets out a sharp breath. “I know what you mean. Well, maybe. I mean… What do you mean?” She stops half way down the ramp and turns to look up at me, her hand still clasped in mine.
I look around and smile tightly as another of my new colleagues greets me with a nod and wave. My eyes meet Lois’s again, and I reach up with my free hand and adjust my glasses.
“People are nice,” I say simply, my mouth twitching into a half-smile. “I’m not used to that.”
“Oh, right,” she mumbles, dropping her eyes momentarily. She shifts her purse up higher onto her shoulder and blinks several times. I imagine she is thinking of him and his interactions with their colleagues. It is clear he was well liked. She looks back up at me and smiles weakly. “Well, you’re a nice guy. People should be nice to you. Come on.” She pats me on the chest, turns, and starts walking again, dragging me behind her.
We continue through the bullpen to Perry’s office, and she leads me in and then releases my hand and shuts the door behind us. Perry White sits behind his desk, which is scattered with papers and file folders, and holds a large colorful coffee mug with the words “Elvis Presley – Indianapolis – 1977” in his right hand. He sets the coffee down and smiles up at us. He looks almost exactly as I’ve known him, minus a few pounds and plus a small scar above his lip.
“Please, sit,” he says, motioning to the chairs in front of his desk. “Oh, son, well, I’m so happy you’re back, I could just kiss you. But I won’t, of course. I’ll leave that to, uh, your little fiancée here,” he teases, smiling knowingly at Lois and then at me.
I feel Lois tense up next to me, and I quickly chuckle at his joke to maintain our façade. I place my hand over hers where it rests on the arm rest of her chair and turn to smile at her. She forces a smile back at me. Ugh, this is too awkward. I lean over with the pretext of kissing her on the cheek, but instead whisper a quick “Sorry” into her ear. As I straighten back up, her eyes meet mine, and I know she is okay. She blinks a few times and turns back to face Perry, who seems to have missed our super stealthy interaction.
“Clark, son, that story of yours—well, the suits upstairs were quite happy, and our circulation numbers have never been better. I’m also hearing that you’re being considered for another Pulitzer nomination, son.”
“Oh, really, wow, I…”
My voice trails off. I’m speechless, really. Although I feel that story may have been the best piece I’ve ever written, I find myself hoping that I don’t actually get the nomination. After all, I didn’t really do anything but write about
his experiences.
Lois seems to feel the same.
“Really, Perry, another nomination?” she asks, abruptly pushing herself up to stand. Her hand slips out of mine. “I mean, the story was great. No offense, Clark. But are they just handing out Pulitzers nowadays? What about that story I did last month on overdose deaths and excessive opioid prescription rates in veterans?”
“Now, Lois, honey, we talked about this last week,” Perry says, dropping his chin to look at her over the top of his glasses. “Your story was groundbreaking, but it’s just a start. To be Pulitzer material, you need a solid follow up. In fact, why don’t you two work together on it—let Clark get back into the groove of things and give you the best chance of getting that Pulitzer.”
“You think I can’t work alone, Perry? You think I
need a partner?”
I bite my lip anxiously as I glance sideways at her. Her face is set hard in a scowl, and Perry even seems to recoil slightly from the intensity of her stare.
“I, uh, think it would be more for my benefit than anything, Lois,” I mumble quietly, rubbing the back of my neck. “I could use some help getting settled again.”
“I know that. I just don’t like the implication. Perry, you know better,” she snaps irritably. She glowers at him and then grabs my hand and pulls me up. Annoyed, she adds, “Come on, Clark. Let’s go get me a Pulitzer.”
15
We quickly get set up in a free conference room, where Lois spreads out all of her research and starts getting me up to speed on her story. With the privacy of the conference room, I am able to use my superspeed to read through all of the documentation she has in a matter of seconds. She’s done incredible work, and I am amazed at the dots she was able to connect from various facets of the investigation. I continue looking over her data and research as she retreats to get us refills of coffee.
“Did you notice this?” I ask as she returns with two mugs of the steaming black liquid.
I point to several lines of data in a printout listing prescription rates from various hospitals around the country. She leans over my shoulder, sets down my coffee, and narrows her eyes slightly as she reads the text and numbers on the page.
“The opioid prescription rates from these three hospitals are abnormally low—I’m talking about 10% the national average—but the overdose-related death rates in veterans in the areas surrounding the hospitals are some of the highest in the country.”
Her hand reaches out over my shoulder, and she traces a finger down the page, pausing at each of the three hospitals I’d marked with asterisks.
“You’re right,” she murmurs. “Hmmm. So, either they are somehow fudging the numbers they are sending to the DEA or—”
“Or the veterans dying at and near these hospitals are getting their prescriptions elsewhere?” I finish, twisting my head to look at her questioningly. To my surprise, she nods enthusiastically.
“Right, Clark, good.”
She straightens up and starts pacing the room, and I can almost see the wheels in her head turning. I watch her for a moment, noting the way her eyes shine and her fingers twitch as she bites her lip in concentration. Her hair is pulled back in a neat bun today, and her perfectly fitted mauve dress suit accentuates her curves. The material of her white blouse stretches across her chest, drawing my gaze into dangerous territory, and I pull my eyes away, back to the data.
I clear my throat and again study the list in front of me. My investigative reporter skills are quite rusty, but I notice another detail.
“All three hospitals are VA hospitals,” I note. “And all are located within a 50-mile radius of Metropolis.”
Lois stops her pacing and steps back toward me. She grabs the paper out of my hand and stares at it again, her eyes wide.
“How had I not noticed that before? Good catch, Clark.” She hurries to the door and pushes it open, scanning the newsroom. “Jimmy!”
The young researcher snaps his head up from his desk and jumps to his feet. Lois waves him in and then scoots back over to the table, setting down the paper and running her finger down the list again. A moment later, the conference room door opens, and Jimmy Olsen peeks his head in.
“What’s up, Lois?” He steps fully into the room and smiles widely at me. I nod back.
“Jimmy, we need a list of all the pharmacists, doctors, nurses, and other staff members at these three hospitals, ASAP,” she says, shoving the list at him and pointing to the three marked hospitals. Jimmy looks briefly down at the paper and then nods.
“You got it, Lois, CK, right away!” He smiles again and dashes out of the room and back to his desk.
Lois turns to me, a huge smile brightening her face. The room seems to light up around her. I allow myself a small smile as well, but I lower my eyes quickly as I feel an overwhelming urge to hug her.
Control yourself, Kent. “It’s nearly 2. We should grab a bite to eat while he’s getting the list for us,” Lois says, grabbing her coat off the back of one of the chairs. I glance up at her, and she’s watching me thoughtfully. She tilts her head slightly. “You haven’t heard any uh, you know, calls for help, since I picked you up from the medical conference this morning.” Although it’s almost phrased as a question, she issues it more as a statement. I nod.
“No, it’s been quiet,” I agree, and then I grimace. “We probably just jinxed it, you know.”
She laughs, and my heart skips a beat again.
“You’re right. Sorry,” she giggles. Her expression changes then, however, and she exhales deeply and turns toward the door. “He used to say something similar.”
It’s on the tip of my tongue, and before I can stop myself, I echo the words he seems to have inserted into my head. “‘Don’t jinx it now.’” I freeze as she spins around to face me, all the color draining from her face.
“H-how…?” She backs up a step, and her hands wring together nervously. “How did you know that?”
I shake my head slowly, my eyes not leaving hers. My mind races. Why had I said that out loud? I certainly hadn’t meant to. I feel his presence with me now, and I almost can’t stop myself from moving toward her and enveloping her in a hug. But I manage to hold my ground. I let out a shaky breath.
“I-I don’t know, Lois. I’m—I’m sorry, it just—I don’t know,” I stammer, and I drop my eyes to the floor. She doesn’t move, but I hear her heart racing, and her breathing is quick and shallow. After a moment, she seems to steady herself. I look back up, and her questioning eyes meet mine. “Maybe I read it in one of his journals?” I offer, although I know that’s not true.
She just nods weakly and steps toward the door.
“There’s a good burger place around the corner,” she says quietly. “Come on.”
I stand hastily and grab my coat as I follow her out of the conference room and toward the elevators. No holding hands this time, and I stay back several feet, giving her the space I know she needs.
About half way up the ramp to the elevators, I feel his presence suddenly grow stronger, and I almost stumble as a sharp pain stabs through my chest. I grab the railing as a glistening black blade presses into my chest and a dry, harsh wind sweeps dust into my eyes. I’m vaguely aware of Lois suddenly at my side, one hand on my shoulder, and her voice whispers in my ear, “Clark, are you okay?” I nod my head emphatically and straighten back up, but the pain persists, and I see the blade pierce deeper into my chest as the images from this sort of dual vision continue to disorient me. Self-hatred, guilt, and anger fill me, and I close my eyes against the unfamiliar feelings.
Kal, please, stop! I’ve never tried communicating with him…or whatever this is…so directly before, but it seems to work; I feel his presence fade abruptly, and the vision of his death dissipates, along with the chest pain and harmful emotions.
Lois is still standing close to me, her hand on my arm. I reach up with a shaky hand and adjust my glasses as I steady my breathing.
“S-sorry about that. I-I’m fine,” I stutter, forcing a fake smile on my face.
She sees right through it, but glances quickly around the newsroom and apparently decides not to make a scene in the middle of such a crowded area. She loops her arm into mine and guides me up the ramp the rest of the way without another word. She presses the button to the elevator, and we wait. Her arm remains looped through mine, and her hand clasps mine tightly. I’m glad for the support, but I’m also still bewildered and confused. And honestly, I’m a little scared at the intensity of the vision. I wish I knew why I keep having these visions and experiencing his emotions. This time had been different—I’d remained aware of my current location and surroundings rather than being fully transported into his memory. But that had made it more disorienting.
The elevator doors open with a ding, and she leads me into the small, confined space, which is thankfully otherwise unoccupied. Once inside, she releases my hand and presses the button to take us to the first floor. She then turns and faces me, her eyes studying me uneasily.
“I’m sorry,” I repeat, my voice a bit steadier this time.
“What happened there? You looked like…” She pauses and lowers her voice, although we are alone. “…like there was kryptonite around or something.”
I shake my head and drop my eyes. “No, it wasn’t anything like that. Um—”
The elevator stops abruptly on the second floor, and an older gentleman carrying a stack of this morning’s edition of the
Daily Planet enters, nodding to each of us. My eyes meet Lois’s, and I frown and shrug. She steps back next to me, and we ride the rest of the way down in silence. The lobby is crowded, and we push through to exit onto the street. I follow as Lois leads the way down the street toward the burger joint. Ahead of me a few steps, Lois stops and motions to a small restaurant. The placard outside reads
Burger Bistro and lists the day’s specials. A few outdoor tables are set but empty because of the chilly afternoon.
“Here we are,” she says.
I nod and glance over the top of my glasses inside. The restaurant is not busy; several tables are open, and the atmosphere is quiet, unrushed. I reach ahead and open the door for her, and she pauses to look at me before giving me a half smile and stepping into the restaurant ahead of me. A sign just inside the door indicates we should seat ourselves, so I follow Lois to a table near the windows overlooking the street. She sits before I get the chance to help her with her chair, and she gives me a crooked grin this time. At least she’s not still upset at me for repeating her Clark’s words earlier, I suppose. I grin back and take my own seat across from her as she hands me a menu.
I quickly scan the single-page menu. A waitress greets us and takes our drink orders, promising to return in a few minutes. Across from me, Lois sets her menu down and stares blankly out the window. Her fingers absently tap on the table, and she sighs almost longingly. I wonder what she is thinking.
I lower my eyes back to the menu. Various specialty burgers and fries. Some salads, sandwiches, and a soup of the day. Ice cream and shakes. I find that nothing sounds particularly appetizing with my current mood, but I decide to try their cobb salad and tomato basil soup, and I set my menu back into the rack at the end of the table, then follow Lois’s gaze outside. The day is chilly, breezy, and overcast, remnants of the previous night’s storm. Pedestrians hurry along the sidewalk, bundled in their winter coats, though it’s not yet winter. I momentarily focus my hearing out a few miles, listening for any disruptions; however, all is still quiet. I turn back to Lois. Her eyes shift restlessly as she stares outside.
“Hey, um…”
I intend to start into an explanation, made up or otherwise, for my behavior on the way out of the Planet. However, I’m interrupted by the waitress, who returns with our drinks and asks to take our order. Lois orders first—a standard type cheeseburger and chili cheese fries—and I then order my salad and soup. She gives me an inquisitive look, but says nothing, and takes a long sip of her soda as the waitress leaves.
“Lois, I—”
And I try again, but this time am stopped by the sound of gunshots from a few blocks away. My head turns in the direction of the sound, and I listen intently. Police officers are being fired upon by a suspect trying to escape from a jewelry store. One police officer has been shot, and the suspect seems to be heavily armed. I glance back to Lois, who is watching me expectantly.
“Sorry, jewelry store robbery a couple blocks away,” I explain, my voice low. “I’ll be right back.”
She nods. “Be careful.”
With as often as she’s said that, I’d have half expected that her words would sound rote, empty by now; however, there is a clear intention and genuineness to her voice, and I smile briefly at her before standing and rushing out of the restaurant. Down the street a couple buildings, I find a nice deserted alleyway, and I spin into the suit and jump into the air. An instant later, I disarm the suspect, deposit him and his firearm in the custody of the police, and rush the injured policeman to the hospital. Fortunately, his injuries appear to not be life-threatening, and he thanks me as they roll him through the Emergency Room doors on a gurney. I nod a response and take off back to the restaurant.
Lois smiles at me through the window as I jog back down the street, straightening my tie, and I quickly enter the restaurant and settle back into my seat just as our food arrives.
“Everything good?” she asks casually as she scoops up a bite of her chili cheese fries.
I settle into my seat and nod. Keeping my voice low, I explain, “One officer was shot, but he should be okay. Superman got him to the hospital quickly.”
“Good,” she replies.
We fall into a comfortable silence as we eat. The salad is surprisingly tasty, with fresh ingredients and an obviously homemade tangy herb ranch dressing. Half-way through her burger, Lois clears her throat and raises her eyes to mine somewhat hesitantly.
“So, um, earlier, at the Planet, on the ramp—what happened?” The concern in her eyes betrays the calmness of her voice.
I drop my eyes to the table for a moment as I contemplate how to explain the incident. My odd connection to and interaction with her dead fiancé are not easy to describe, however, since I don’t really understand it myself. Although I strongly dislike dishonesty, I look back up at her with a carefully constructed expression of confusion on my face.
“I’m not really sure what happened, to be honest…”
Ugh, bad choice of words, Kent, come on, now. “I suddenly felt a strong pressure in my chest—”
Okay, better, not entirely a lie— “but it was gone as quickly as it came.”
Also not a lie. She seems to believe me, but is equally as confused as I am pretending to be.
“Weird,” she replies, taking another bite of her burger. She contemplates my words. “But you’re okay now? Have you felt that same sensation before?”
“I’m fine now, yes,” I say, pushing the food around on my plate distractedly. “And no, I haven’t felt that same kind of pressure before. It was a bit disturbing.” Again, not a lie. Well, not exactly.
“Hmm, I hope it’s not something weird about, uh, interdimensional travel, or something?” She lowers her voice even more and adds, “H.G. Wells would have told you about something like that, right?”
“No, no, I’m sure it’s nothing like that,” I answer dismissively. “I’m not worried about it, really. I think actually I could just be pretty tired. I haven’t slept much in the last few days. And even for me, that’s rough.”
This part is actually true. Well, kind of. I
am tired, and I haven’t slept more than four hours in the last three days.
“Oh, right,” she says. A thin lock of her hair escapes from her bun and falls down to frame her face. She reaches up and tucks it behind her ear.
“Sorry, I hope you’re not worrying about me, Lois. Please, you don’t need any extra stress right now. I’m fine, really,” I promise, setting my fork down.
She nods half-heartedly and pushes her plate away. The waitress comes and sets the check down on the edge of the table, and I reach over and pick it up while pulling out my wallet. However, her hand covers mine briefly, and she takes the check with a smile.
“You paid yesterday when we went out with my parents. It’s my turn this time,” she explains.
I want to argue with her, but before I can, she stands and makes her way up to the hostess desk to pay, giving me a wry smile over her shoulder as she pulls her wallet out of her purse. I shake my head and stuff my wallet back into my pocket. At that moment, my cell phone rings, and I quickly take it out of my other pocket. The screen lights up with the name Jimmy Olsen, and I answer eagerly.
“Jimmy, hey, what’s up?” I stand up from the table, grab both of our coats, and start toward the front of the restaurant to meet Lois.
“CK, oh, man, I’m still happy to hear your voice, man!” he exclaims, just a little too loud for my sensitive ears. I pull the phone away from my ear a few inches as he continues. “Just calling to let you know I got those lists for you. I crosschecked them, and there’s some interesting overlap in the pharmacy department. I’m taking off for an assignment for Perry, so I’m leaving the lists on the table in the conference room for you guys.”
“Great, that’s great, Jimmy. Thank you,” I say, motioning with a thumbs up to Lois. She nods and turns back to the hostess, who hands her a receipt to sign.
“No problem! I’ll see you back at the Planet later,” he replies.
“Right, thanks again.”
I hang up the phone just as Lois finishes up. I help her to put on her coat, and then we head back out of the restaurant and down the street. A slight drizzle has started, and the breeze picks up. Lois shivers and pulls her coat around herself tighter as we walk at a brisk pace, and I explain to her what Jimmy told me on the phone.
As we enter the lobby to the Planet, my superhearing kicks on, and my head twists abruptly toward the sound, which comes from a television in a sports bar across the street. The normal broadcast has been interrupted, and the newscaster announces, in a solemn voice,
“Breaking news—We are getting reports that space debris from a Chinese satellite has hit the International Space Station. The damage is extensive, and the power supply from the solar panels on the station has been disrupted. Without power, air circulation and temperature controls may be compromised, among other complications. All astronauts aboard the space station are in immediate danger.” Instinctively, I look up, through the walls of the building, out into space. Pushing my vision to its limits, I quickly locate and scan the damage to the space station. I feel Lois’s hand on my shoulder, but I’m too focused to hear her words. One entire end of the space station is damaged, and several of the solar panels that collect the Sun’s energy appear to have been separated from the space station and are drifting away. The astronauts are all gathered in one section of the space station, looking grim. I shake away a feeling of uncertainty that washes over me and glance down at Lois.
“I have to go. I’ll be back as soon as I can, but it might be a while,” I say quickly.
“Okay, what—”
The television in the lobby of the Planet switches to the same news broadcast, and the newscasters are now discussing how long the astronauts likely have before they can no longer breathe or until they freeze to death. Lois turns slowly toward the television, then looks back to me.
“What are you waiting for? Go!”
The insistence in her voice shakes me out of my hesitation, and I nod and spin around, jogging quickly back out the revolving doors of the lobby. I’ve never done anything like this before, and I really have no idea what I’m going to do, but I know I have to try. I rush around the side of the Planet and launch up into the sky as I change into the suit. My eyes scan ahead of me, locking on the space station, and I take a deep breath and I speed up as much as I dare.
Within seconds, I am hovering near the broken solar panels, surveying the damage. Two of the panels have fully detached from the space station, and three others are snapped at the base, but still attached. I know I have no time to lose, and I immediately get started on repairs—first by reattaching the detached panels and then straightening and repairing the snapped panels. The work is slow, and though I work with conviction, I remain uncertain. However, as I am working to weld the first of the snapped panels back to its base, I hear the relief in the voices of the astronauts inside the space station as the power from the first two reattached solar panels comes back online. I briefly stop my welding and twist my head slightly toward where I’d seen the astronauts as I’d flown up. A man a bit older than me waves enthusiastically from the window and gives me a thumbs up. He speaks directly to me, though he seems unsure of whether I can hear him.
“Superman, we have the two solar panels back online, thanks to you. Please do exactly what you did with those first two panels, if possible, to get the remaining three back online as well.”
I nod deliberately and then return to my work. I absently wonder just how long I can go without breathing, and I keep an ear tuned to the inside of the space station for updates and any more instructions. But all I hear now is joy, relief, and gratitude, spoken in several different languages. I smile as I weld another section back into place, and I feel an incredible sense of purpose and fulfillment.
This is why.
This is why I am here.
I move on to the next solar panel and continue my work.
16
Tuesday morning. Fall weather returns with slightly warmer temperatures and a breeze that lifts red and yellow leaves from the trees of the park. I run at a pace any elite marathoner would be proud of, my old Nikes squeaking against the wet sidewalk with each stride. I take my usual path through the park, but then add in an extra loop as I enjoy the fresh air and lack of attention. I am just another runner today. No one stares and whispers. In fact, most wave or nod cordially and continue on their way.
After my second loop, I veer back toward my apartment. Sure, I’ll call it mine. And I expand my senses out to the city. I hear sounds of a relatively normal commute and people starting their day. No huge emergencies requiring super help. No gunshots, bank alarms, or police sirens even. A quiet morning, again.
I jog up the steps to my apartment and pull my keys out of the pocket of my running shorts, allowing myself a smile. Another day of this new reality of mine, and it already feels great.
Inside, the sunlight filters through the windows and brightens the room. I flip on the television and hear the newscasters discussing Superman’s rescue and repairs of the International Space Station the previous afternoon. Officials from each of the countries hosting astronauts on the space station have issued formal messages of gratitude to the superhero, and the newscasters read the messages out loud. I sit heavily on the couch and listen for several minutes.
Never—not once since becoming Superman nearly two years ago in my own world—have I ever had world leaders issue statements of thanks for anything I’d done. And I’d done a lot of work internationally. I wipe away tears and stand abruptly as I turn off the television. This world is so different from mine.
I rush through a quick shower, get dressed, and head out the door to meet Lois for breakfast. I smile as I walk briskly down the street. I could definitely get used to this.
