TOC Part 2 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
JOURNAL ENTRY #3
LATE DECEMBER, 1993 TO
EARLY JANUARY, 1994
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Things went pretty normally for a while after that. Training continued. I learned how to fight while invisible. Alan had to redesign part of my suit, since the gloves tended to wear out pretty quickly. We had a small Christmas party. Bobby got gifts for the kids. New Year's came and went. I saw Gina a couple more times, when Alan was working on something and asked me to return Aymee and Inez from "day care." Like I said... normal.
And then
he showed up.
It was late. The kids were in bed, and Alan was either asleep or holed up in his lab. It was my turn to stay up and watch the monitors. I was having a quiet dinner at the table (while glancing at the monitors every now and again) when a voice spoke up behind me.
"Good evening."
I jumped up and whirled around. The voice had been polite enough, but it wasn't one I'd recognized. Worse, there had been no warning. Whoever it was had bypassed all the alarms.
I was shocked (and a little relieved) to discover that it was a small, unassuming, and somewhat elderly man. I didn't know what to make of him, but I was fairly sure he didn't belong in the Fortress. "Who're you?" I demanded.
"You must be Tommy," he said, giving me a quirky little smile. "I am delighted to meet you."
I glowered at him and took a step forward.
"My name," he continued, seemingly unfazed, "is H. G. Wells." He spoke in formal and precise tones, as if we were at some kind of tea party.
"Uh-huh." If he was Wells (and he did seem to fit Bobby's description), then I supposed he had a right to be there. "And, uh, what brings you to, uhm, grace us with your presence at this time?"
If he realized I was making fun of him, he chose to ignore it. "Excellent question, my boy. You see, I have come to —"
"My boy?"
My tone of voice got through that time. "Er, sorry. Force of habit, you know, my... good man?"
I grunted assent. "That'll do," I added when our esteemed visitor continued to hesitate.
"Yes. Good, then." He fidgeted around for a second before managing to pick up the thread of what he'd been saying. "*Ahem* Well, you see, I came here to warn you of a dire catastrophe."
"Something bad's gonna happen?" He didn't exactly look the part of the messenger of doom.
He paused, a confused frown on his face, then gave another little cough before continuing. "Yes, exactly, my b — good man. An asteroid will shortly be discovered heading for Earth."
"Uh-huh. And what are we supposed to do about that?"
He paused again, fidgeting. I made a mental note to try not to interrupt him so much. It seemed to really throw him off. "The asteroid. No, you don't need to do anything about that. In fact, part of the reason I came here was to tell you not to worry about it. Superman will take care of the asteroid. He will strike it, breaking it into smaller pieces. Unfortunately, he will lose his memory in the process."
"It'll be that — Never mind."
"Right. He will lose his memory, but there will still be a large chunk threatening Earth. Because of his amnesia, he won't show up for a while, and everyone will think he is missing. Eventually, of course, he will regain his memory and save the day. With fourteen minutes to spare, actually. The time leading up to that, however, will be... *ahem* rather tense."
"I see." I tried to imagine what it would be like if everyone thought the world was about to end. Not a pretty situation. I'd be glad to be in the sewers, away from the panic.
"Yes, well, obviously Superman won't be around to help calm things. So you and the others will have to help, shall we say, keep the peace?"
Oh, right. We were supposed to be the "good guys." That was my job, the reason they'd taken me in. On the other hand... "Everyone will be going nuts because they think it's the end, that Superman won't be able to save them, right?"
"Yes, exactly. You, on the other hand, will be able to keep calm because you will know in advance that Superman will recover in time."
"So why don't you just tell everyone else that?"
He seemed genuinely taken aback by the situation. "Oh no, that would be interfering with history. I couldn't do that. Very dangerous doing that, don't you know..."
That raised my eyebrows. "And, uh, what do you think yer doing with us? Tipping us off in advance? Heck, getting the group together in the first place. Isn't that 'interfering with history'?"
"No, no. That's entirely different. You are here to help keep history on track."
"Uh-huh."
"Yes, very different," he said, nodding enthusiastically to himself. "Very different, indeed."
I stared at him, saying nothing.
"Which actually brings up a good point. You see, history records the challenges and difficulties which were overcome by Superman and... uhm... the people close to him." He looked uncomfortable as he worked his way through that last part, as if he was picking his words with even more care than usual. I didn't pay that too much attention at the time, though, because something had clicked in the back of my mind.
"Like those reporters the kids are always watching." I'd always wondered why they seemed to keep a closer eye on that newsroom than any place else. Well, any place but that warehouse...
He brightened at that. "Exactly! Now, if you were to interfere with those challenges, you could alter history. The consequences could be catastrophic. So, for the most part, you should assume that situations involving Superman will be properly resolved. I'll let you know when that is not the case. For example, history does not mention anything further about Bureau 39 from this point forward."
"Yeah. Phillip is keeping an eye on them. Dudley and Aymee set up some cameras and stuff near their meeting points."
"Ah, excellent. Well done." He smiled, and looked like he was going to try to pat me on the arm or something, but then thought better of it. He fidgeted a bit, then continued. "The other exception is clean-up work. Once the situation is resolved and Superman has done his part, history generally records that as the end of his involvement."
"You mean like the way he left the kids to get lost in the system? Or never checked on Alan? Or me?" Not that what had happened to me wasn't my own fault, or that I'd been particularly nice to him, but it irritated me sometimes, the way everyone talked about him as if he could do no wrong.
"Er... well... I suppose so..."
"Yeah. Great guy. Real super."
Wells jerked straight, as if he'd suddenly developed a very rigid backbone. "Young man, we are talking about someone who is about to risk his life to save the entire world, and who will do so again many times. A man who has arguably done more good in this world than just about anyone in all of history. He may not take every waking moment to check on all the people he's previously saved, but do not question his accomplishments!"
"Uhm, yeah. Sorry," I said halfheartedly. I still wasn't entirely convinced, but I didn't feel like arguing about it. "You were saying?"
He blinked, and seemed to deflate a bit as his indignation melted out of him. "Mmm, yes. Quite. You should avoid situations in which Superman or his friends are involved. You should, however, attempt to avert those disasters which history said weren't supposed to happen and attempt to help with situations of which Superman is not aware or cannot, for some other reason, be of help."
I looked at him blankly. How were we supposed to know whether a situation was supposed to happen?
Noticing my expression, Wells paused. "In cases where the difference between those situations is not obvious, I will, of course, warn you. If you're still not sure, Phillip's computer also has a special secured database. It's designed to give you only the minimum necessary information. You will not be able, for example, to use it to access information about the future. It should, however, be able to help you determine whether or not a given situation in the present will require your involvement."
I nodded. That was good to know.
"Good, then. You should also keep an eye out for the aftermath of situations in which Superman's involvement is complete. Those situations are particularly important, since they can lead to later problems. Cleaning up will also sometimes present the group with new recruits. For example, the asteroid's approach will be a life-altering experience for many people. If you keep your eyes open, you may well find an unexpected ally."
"That's a tall order."
"You'll manage. All of you. I'm sure of it."
"Yeah, sure," I said dismissively. Before he could respond, I brought up another question. "What about Bobby?"
That threw him off. "I'm sorry, what?"
"Bobby. You said we shouldn't interfere with Superman or his friends. So what about Bobby?"
"Ah. He's a little different. History records that he was an invaluable source for Lois Lane and Clark Kent, providing key information on several occasions. If Lois and Clark come looking for help and information, then you are to provide for them to the best of your abilities."
I shrugged. "Okay."
"Well, that's good, then. I think we've covered the important things. So, Mr. Garrison, how do you find life down here in — Oh dear." He looked down. I followed his gaze. Socrates had noticed our visitor and become curious about the unusual fabric of his pants. "Oh my. Uhm, pardon me..." Wells continued to mutter in distressed tones as he struggled to free his pants leg from the pig's mouth. "Yes, well, if there's nothing else..."
I didn't quite manage to hide my smile. "No, I think we're okay."
"Good, good," he replied, distracted. He started to head for the door, struggling to keep himself free of Socrates. "I think I'll be going. Carry on. Remember about the asteroid. You'll do fine, I'm sure. Until next time..."
"Yeah. Bye." After Wells had made his way out the door and disappeared, Socrates came back. He gave me a wide berth, as usual, but then I slipped him a few scraps from the remnants of my now cold dinner. He seemed surprised, but wasn't about to complain. "Good pig."
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