ToC is
HERE.
Hospital Drama: Part 12------
Perhaps coffee had improved with the technology of the future, or perhaps being overdue for caffeine had colored her taste. Lois didn't care. All she knew was that the cup Jordan had handed her was filled with the purest ambrosia. She was just savoring the first sip when the office door swung open, making her nearly jump from her seat.
At first, she couldn't quite place the casually-dressed young man who strolled into the room, but then he flashed her a familiar, wide grin. “I guess the stories about you were all true, weren't they, Gorhennain?”
“Hi, Owen.” She smiled back, settling again into the couch's plush cushions.
Beside her, Jordan looked up from his own...beverage. Apparently the drain-cleaner drinking fad from her last visit had not exactly died. If anything, the design of the bottle he sipped from seemed to suggest that the company was embracing its alternate usage. “Everything finally wrapped up with Mr. Smith and his friends?”
Owen nodded, and Lois scooted over a little so he could join them on the couch. “You know, he's not such a bad egg, for a New Kryptonian. Such a sweet daughter, too!”
“What's going to happen with the guys who were shooting at us?” Lois asked with a curious lift of her eyebrows. “Will they be tried on Earth? Sent back to New Krypton? Has the First Lord released any kind of statement?”
“First Lord?” Owen echoed, staring blankly at her.
“Oh, right!” said Jordan. “You wouldn't know. New Krypton doesn't have first lords anymore. Ever since the last revolution, they have a 'Citizen's Council'.” He shifted his grip on the bottle in order to make air-quotes.
“Yeah,” said Owen. “So instead of nobles killing each other over a throne, you have regular people killing each other over an office chair.”
“Such an improvement,” Jordan said dryly, taking another pull from the bottle.
“Less power and opulence, but the responsibility is no less great...” Lois recalled, her eyes widening as the puzzle-piece finally snapped into place.
Jordan snorted. “Sounds like something they would say.” He met Owen's eyes. “Anyway, speaking of the Smith girl, I...have to talk to Agnes about something. It's kind of...” He sighed. “It's big. Do you think you could put Grams up for the night?” He turned his attention back to her. “You don't mind, do you, Grams?”
Lois shook her head.
“I'd love to have her over!” Owen beamed, looking as though Jordan had just offered him the world on a golden plate. He turned to Lois. “It'll be grand! I can introduce you to Mum and you might remember Da; he got to meet you once before. Oh! And we can watch the movie and—” He stopped abruptly, and then a slow smile spread over his face. “Hang on a tic.”
In a crack of thunder, Owen suddenly disappeared. The door began to slowly fall shut, but it hadn't quite closed when Owen emerged through it again, slamming it open. He held a cereal box out to her. “Gorhennain, this shall be breakfast!” His grin somehow grew even bigger.
Lois stared at the box. It was dominated by a picture of Charlotte dressed in one of the outfits Lois remembered from that movie shoot. The juxtaposed picture of an enlarged spoon featured 'L' and 'O' shaped cereal bits and what appeared to be marshmallows shaped like Superman's shield. “Lois Lane Loops?!” she read aloud.
“A Super way to start the day,” Owen recited even as her gaze landed on that very phrase. “Most of the move tie-in stuff is rare collectibles now, but they still make that and the Clark Kent Super-Crunch.”
Lois turned the box over in her hands. The back showed what seemed to be a still from Charlotte's movie, with her looking adoringly at Keith as he pulled his shirt open to reveal Superman's famous crest. Slightly below it was a photo of herself and Clark in the Daily Planet newsroom. A blurb next to the photo read: “Did You Know? Lois Lane was nicknamed 'Mad Dog' for her relentlessness when pursuing the truth. Even Superman struggled to keep up!” She allowed herself a tiny smile at that.
Her smile faded as she realized that Owen was once again talking but no sound was coming out of his mouth anymore. Well, this was familiar. She set the box down on the couch, then reluctantly handed the coffee back to Jordan. “Owen... Jordan...” She had no idea if either one could hear her, but their widening eyes told her that they at least could tell something was happening. “I'm sorry. I guess this is goodbye.” She reached out a hand to each of them, trying to impart as much love and gratitude as she could through a touch that was already little more than a vague impression of heat with no solidity to it.
Once again, the world faded. Hopefully, this time would be the last.
Every landowning male citizen is allowed to vote. At present, there’s three of them.
Baby steps. Next year, they try to adjust behavior so they don’t kill each other *over* and office chair but *with* an office chair.
Michael