“I should have known,” Lois said. “Ralph always looked like a pervert.”

“It was a little stupid looking at porn on company time,” Clark said. “But what got him fired was using Daily Planet funds to pay for it.”

Snickering, Lois said “I hear he tried to pass it off as research for an article on cam girls.”

“Perry just said that if we were going to send that much money to Vegas, we might as well be betting on the horses.” Clark glanced off in the distance and his face seemed a little concerned.

“It explains why Ralph was actually at the office after closing time.” Lois thought for a moment, then shuddered. “You know, I’ve used that terminal a time or two.”

Reflexively she wiped her hands on the back of Clark’s jacket. He glanced back at her.

Lois finally made out the sound that Clark had apparently already noticed. Weren’t women supposed to have superior senses of hearing and smell?

A round face Chinese man was running down the street yelling at the top of his lungs. He didn’t seem dangerous, just insane.

Clark frowned, and said something unintelligible to the man. The man replied with a torrent of words, none of which Lois recognized.

“What’s he saying?” Lois asked. “I don’t speak Chinese.”

“It’s Japanese,” Clark said. “He’s saying that he just discovered how to bend time and space.”

Lois shook her head sadly. “Maybe we should be writing an article about the drug trade. Somebody has obviously dosed up this poor tourist.”

“He says he was just in Tokyo a moment ago, and now he has a comic book that predicts the future.”

“Maybe he started using drugs on the plane over here.” Lois tugged at Clark’s arm. “Let’s get out of here before he wants us to join his space cult.”

“Still afraid of ending up in a spacesuit, Lois?” Clark smirked.

He said something indecipherable to the other man, who shook his head and backed away.

“Hiro Nakamura.” Clark said. “He’s from Japan and that’s his name.”

“That's lovely," Lois said impatiently. "I hear a combination plate from Ralph’s Pagoda calling my name, Kent. Let’s go.”

Lois tugged again, and Clark reluctantly followed, looking behind them at the young Asian man.

Glancing back, Lois noted that the young man was staring up at the skyscrapers and grinning.

In a strnage, insane way, it was nice. It had been a long time since Lois had seen anyone take that much joy in anything. Life in Metropolis was all about the destination. The journey was something to be endured.

“It must be fun to be Don Quixote,” she murmured.

“Tilting at windmills, Lois?” Clark grinned at her for a moment. “Isn’t that what we do?”

Lois glanced back at the young man. He was standing still in the middle of the street, with his eyes squinted shut. He looked as though he was constipated.

“Clark,” Lois said. Before Clark could turn, the man disappeared.

Lois turned and stared wildly, scanning the street for any places he might have slipped into. There were no manholes, no alcoves. One moment he had been there, and the next moment he was gone.

“What is it?” Clark said.

Glancing up at him, Lois said, “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

She was lying, of course. Clark Kent would believe anything. He was as gullible as though he’d fallen off the turnip truck. Look at how he’d believed that artist last week.

Lois didn’t believe anything she didn’t see with her own two eyes. The only problem was, she’d seen this with her own eyes, and she knew it for what it was- the story of the century.

And there wasn't any way she was sharing a Pulitzer with a greenhorn like Kent.