A World Without Superman
Copy Dec 12, 2007
For a Challenge posed by tooaddicted2tv
No, I haven't forgotten the other two that are waiting for me to finish - but my muses are being uncooperative.
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Superman approached the asteroid as fast as he could, faster than he’d ever flown before. He was still in radio communication with EPRAD and they were keeping him appraised of his progress. He also knew they were watching the asteroid on radar. The world was watching, waiting, praying.
He’d been given several options in how to deal with the approaching mass of rock. Suggestions had been made for a frontal assault – smash it out of the sky – but he wasn’t sure if even his strength would be enough to smash it into dust. And it needed to be smashed into dust. Another suggestion had been to try to deflect it – to shove it aside enough that the asteroid, the size of New Troy Island, would miss the Earth. He had studied EPRAD’s computer simulations, but it came down to a need to assess the problem ‘on site’. Finally, the scientists had simply told him to use his own judgment.
The asteroid grew larger and larger as he approached it until it was the only thing he could see in the sky. He flew still closer. Sections of the asteroid seemed to be glowing with an eerie light. It was getting harder for him to keep going, but he kept on.
Failure was not an option.
He hit the asteroid at full speed and shoved. The rock felt burning hot against the palms of his hands. Still he kept shoving. He needed to move it aside enough that the Moon’s gravity could catch it, even a little and divert it from the planet below.
The burning extended up his arms, his shoulders, into his chest. He was getting light-headed and he realized he had gone through all the oxygen in his air tank. He summoned what remained of his strength and gave the asteroid one last heave. The radio receiver he’d been given was spitting static into his ear and even if he’d still had radio contact with EPRAD, he didn’t have enough air in his lungs to talk to them.
Dear God, let it be enough… -o-o-o-
Except for the static on the radio, the Daily Planet newsroom was silent. Every broadcast station on the planet was covering Superman’s attempt to avert the upcoming disaster.
“This is EPRAD control. We have lost transmission with Superman,” a professional voice announced after what felt like an eternity. The wall clock said only a few minutes had passed.
“His microphone went out,” Lois announced to no one in particular. “He’s fine. He’s got to be.”
No one else said anything.
Finally Perry clapped his hands to get every one’s attention. “We’re professionals. We have a job to do. Let’s get back to doing it.” He turned to head back to his office then stopped at Lois’s desk. He gestured to Clark’s empty desk.
“Any idea where Clark’s disappeared to?” Perry asked.
“He mentioned something about getting some ‘man on the street’ reactions,” Lois told him. “I’ve tried paging him, but he hasn’t called back. Frankly, I don’t know if I should be annoyed or worried.”
“Well, right now we have bigger things to worry about,” Perry reminded her. “EPRAD won’t know for a while if Superman was able to divert the asteroid. Either way, we have a paper to get out.”
“Sure, Perry,” Lois said.
-o-o-o-
EPRAD finally announced that all indications were that Superman had been successful. He had succeeded in diverting the asteroid, and although it might skirt close to the planet, all measurements indicated the asteroid would miss by several hundred miles. The planet was safe – this time.
NORAD released their radar readings of the asteroid at the time of Superman’s impact. A small piece had broken off and had been caught in Earth’s gravity well. It had burned up in the atmosphere, but their projections showed that had it not vaporized, it would have landed on Metropolis.
It was past midnight when Perry finally forced Lois to head home. Clark still hadn’t called in and EPRAD’s initial hopefulness about Superman’s survival was fading fast. The air tank he’d been given was good for six hours if used by a human. Superman had left Earth more than twelve hours ago. It was unlikely even he could survive six hours without oxygen.
When she left, Perry was looking over front-page dummies for the next day. He had two of them. One had blazoned across the top ‘Superman Still Missing’, the other ‘Superman Alive.’ Lois knew what the first headline had beneath it. She wrote it – a brief story covering Superman’s attempt to save the planet followed by an equally brief story about Superman’s arrival in Metropolis and the good he’d done – for all intents and purposes it was his obituary. Superman was Metropolis’s greatest hero and yet no one knew anything about him – when he arrived on Earth, if he had family that was worried about him.
It took her a long time to fall asleep and when she did, her dreams were filled with burning and falling and terror.
-o-o-o-
“Henderson, this better be good,” Lois warned. She wasn’t in a good mood. She hadn’t slept well and Clark was still not answering his home phone or his pager. Inspector Henderson had called her before she’d had a chance go get her second cup of coffee and all but ordered her to get to MDP Headquarters ASAP. He had refused to tell her anything more on the phone.
“Superman’s missing,” she continued. “I’m working the asteroid story with my partner AWOL and...” She paused as she looked through the glass into the room beyond. Two people were seated at the table inside – a man in clothes that obviously didn’t belong to him and a professionally dressed woman. She recognized the man. Her missing partner, Clark Kent. “What’s he doing here?”
Henderson shrugged. “He doesn’t know. He was picked up at the Fifth Street Mission. I got a call telling me he was over in the Combat Zone. I brought him over here and I gave you a call.” He reached out and pressed a button on the intercom beside the door. “Doctor?”
The woman looked up at the summons and made a quiet comment to Clark. Beside Henderson, Lois waved at the glass. “Clark!” Clark didn’t look up.
“Can’t see you, Lois,” Henderson explained. “It’s a one-way. Wouldn’t matter, though. He doesn’t remember a thing. His name, where he works, me, you.”
The door opened and the woman emerged from the interrogation room. “Doctor Jerri McCorkle. Lois Lane,” Henderson introduced the two women. “Doc’s one of our department shrinks.”
“What could have caused this?” Lois demanded.
McCorkle shrugged, glancing at her notes. “Several possibilities. I’d guess anxiety caused by the asteroid could be a factor. On the other hand, these cases are often triggered by some kind of physical trauma.”
“He got knocked down by a car and hit his head. But that was the day before yesterday...” Lois told them.
“It could be a delayed reaction.”
“Is he going to be okay?” Lois asked.
“Physically, he’s fine. A few contusions and abrasions. Nothing serious. Whether he’s going to regain his memory immediately, I don’t know. In most cases, global psychogenic amnesia resolves itself in a few hours or days,” McCorkle explained. “But based on the battery of questions we ask, it seems Clark suffers from what we call the ‘Superman Complex,’”
Lois gave her a wry smile. “Don’t we all?”
McCorkle shook her head. “What I mean is that he’s a chronic do-gooder who thinks he can handle anything. This kind of setback can be very frustrating.”
“Tell me what to do,” Lois demanded.
“Clark needs to be surrounded by familiar people, and do familiar things. It will come back to him in time. Be patient with him,” McCorkle told her.
Henderson chuckled. “That’s asking a lot, Doc.”
Lois glared at him. “I can be patient,” she said. “I can be. I can be patient.”
McCorkle opened the door to the room and stuck her head in. “Clark, could you come out here please?”
Clark came to the door, curiosity written across his face as he emerged. There was no recognition in his face as he regarded Lois.
“Clark, this is Lois Lane, your partner at the Daily Planet,” Henderson said.
Clark looked at her more closely. “My partner?”
“We’re a reporting team,” Lois explained.
“Oh.”
“I’m releasing him to you,” McCorkle told Lois before turning back to Clark. “If you have any physical symptoms – blurring of vision, headache, anything like that – get over to the emergency room. I know you check out okay physically, but Miss Lane said you hit your head and it’s better to be safe than sorry with a possible head injury.”
“I feel fine,” Clark assured her.
Lois took his arm and led him away. “Let’s get to work.”
-o-o-o-
Clark didn’t say much on the drive to the Daily Planet. Lois noticed he kept sneaking peeks at her when he thought she wasn’t looking.
“So, how long have I worked at the Daily Planet?” he asked finally.
“Almost eight months,” she answered.
“And before that?”
“You traveled the world,” she told him. As she said it she realized she didn’t really know much about his travels except what was in his writing portfolio. He’d been to Borneo, Bhutran, Jamaica, Ecuador, England, Hong Kong, Nigeria. He’d worked his way around the world for four years as a free lance journalist but he never really talked about it.
She took a deep breath as they entered the elevator that would take them to the sixth floor and the newsroom. “Your name is Clark Jerome Kent. You were raised on a farm outside a little town called Smallville. That’s in Kansas. You attended Kansas State University, graduated magna cum laude with a degree in journalism. Your parents are named Jonathan and Martha and they are absolutely the greatest.”
The elevator doors opened onto the controlled chaos of the newsroom. He seemed a little overwhelmed. She took his arm and walked him to his desk.
“This is your desk. Look familiar?”
He shook his head. “I’m sorry. No.”
She sighed. She had hoped it wouldn’t take long for him to be back to normal, whatever normal was for him. “You always come in and grab a donut from the coffee area. You usually like the cake things with the frosting,” she told him. She picked up one of the frosted cake donuts then put it back. “They’re a little stale now. Are you hungry?”
Clark looked around the desk. His shoulders were slumped in disappointment. “I can’t remember anything. I’m not starving. I’m fine.”
Lois looked Clark over critically. He looked anything but fine. His shirt was too small, jeans too large. It was a wonder he could walk in the tennis shoes he was wearing. The glasses on his nose were broken and far too small for his face. She opened a drawer in Clark’s desk, fished around a moment and found a pair of Clark’s glasses. She handed them to him.
“You keep a second pair,” she explained as he put them on. He frowned as if something was wrong. But at least now he looked more like the Clark she knew.
“Now look at me, Clark,” she ordered. He looked at her, blinking like an owl behind the lenses. “You mean you really don’t remember anything?”
“We’re a reporting team, isn’t that what you said?”
“I’m more like the ‘senior partner.’”
“So you call the shots?”
“You could say that.”
Clark nodded. “Okay. What should I do?”
Lois still couldn’t decide if he was pulling her leg or not. But he looked so lost and out of place, like a puppy. He hadn’t looked that lost or puppy-like on his first day in the newsroom. She sighed.
“We’re full partners. Nobody works for anybody. Although, for the immediate future, you may want to follow my lead.”
“Probably a good idea.”
The rest of the afternoon was a blur. Clark found his locker and a change of clothes, so he looked more like the professional he was, should be. But nothing seemed to trigger any memories.
EPRAD announced a news conference and Perry ordered Lois and Clark to cover it. Speculation was that the agency had news about Superman.
“This Superman… sounds like he means a lot to you,” Clark observed.
“He means a lot to everybody, Clark,” she told him.
The three men who had conducted EPRAD’s news conference two days before announcing the Nightfall asteroid’s threat to Earth, were once again standing on the steps in front of EPRAD headquarters. Professor Daitch, Secretary Cosgrove and General Zeitlin approached a microphone that has been set up on the steps.
“We have just completed a briefing with the Federal Emergency Management Team,” Cosgrove began. “This meeting was called to discuss the scientific assessment from EPRAD about yesterday's mission.”
He turned the microphone over to Daitch, EPRAD’s director of research. “Superman's impact on the 'Nightfall' asteroid was decisive. The asteroid has passed beyond Earth and appears to be well on its way to a stable solar orbit. The current risk to the planet is minor and we are tracking the small debris that was traveling with it.”
“And Superman?” Lois asked, pushing herself to the front of the group of reporters.
Daitch looked startled and more than a little guilty. “We have not yet heard from Superman, and frankly I doubt we will,” he told his audience. “Analysis of the object that came off the asteroid immediately following Superman’s attack on the asteroid indicated it had a mass of approximately one hundred kilograms. That is close to the same mass as Superman. There is no evidence, seismic or otherwise, that an object that size hit the planet.”
There was an audible gasp of horrified surprise from the assembled journalists.
To Lois’s surprise, it was Clark who asked the next question. “Are you even bothering to look for Superman?”
Cosgrove took the microphone. “We have parties searching the area the object would have hit the planet, had it survived entry into Earth’s atmosphere. So far, all we have found are small pieces of some unusual crystals that we believe came from the asteroid. However given the circumstances, unless we hear from Superman within the next forty-eight hours, we are going to assume he perished in space after completing his mission.”
General Zeitlin looked uncomfortable. Professor Daitch looked like he wanted to either run away or start crying. Lois knew without looking that most of her peers in the audience would have much the same expressions on their faces.
The news conference was over and Lois was ready to head back to her car when she realized Clark wasn’t with her. He had managed to pull Daitch to one side.
“These unusual crystals, can you tell us about them? Are you sure they’re from the asteroid? What makes them unusual?” he was asking.
‘Well, Clark may have lost him memory, but he hasn’t lost his reporter’s instincts,’ Lois thought. She stopped to listen to Daitch’s answers.
“The crystals we’ve found are composed of an extremely rare element. Element 126,” Daitch said. “In fact the only other known sample of it was stolen from the University of Kansas only a few months ago. It is mildly radioactive and is distinguishable from quartz or beryl mostly by its weight to volume ratio. It’s very heavy, and it glows. Quite pretty, really. The crystals have a slight resemblance to emeralds and rubies.”
“Kryptonite…” Lois murmured. Louder she said. “Professor Daitch… if it’s what I think it is, it’s called kryptonite. It’s pieces of Superman’s home planet and there is reason to believe it can hurt him, maybe even kill him.”
“In that case, Miss Lane,” Daitch said sadly, “I think there may be no hope for him at all. Spectro-analysis indicates the asteroid was laced with these crystals.”
-o-o-o-
“You think he’s dead, don’t you?” Clark asked as Lois drove them back to the Daily Planet.
“I don’t know what to think,” Lois admitted. She gave him a searching look. “Are you sure you don’t remember anything?”
He shrugged. “It’s like… I don’t know… like I can see them out of the corner of my eye, but when I look right at them, they move away. It’s very frustrating. I know the memories are there, but I can’t grab them.”
“Doctor McCorkle said not to worry too much, that everything should fall back into place with time,” Lois reminded him. “We just have to be patient.”
Clark seemed content with her assurances and she tried not to let her own worry show.
It didn’t seem possible that Superman was dead, but he’d been missing twenty-four hours. She knew that if he had been able to, he would have made contact with someone – the Daily Planet, some other newspaper, the police, somebody, anybody. But he hadn’t and she felt a lead weight settle in her chest.
Superman is dead.-o-o-o-
Lois turned in her story on EPRAD’s announcement. Clark had proofed her work as he frequently did.
It was odd. He had automatically fixed her coffee the way she liked it, had commented on her article, adding observations and quotes. His skill as a writer, as a journalist, was intact but there seemed to be a wall, a barrier, between what he could do and who he was. But Clark was looking more comfortable around Jimmy and the other newsroom staffers.
Finally, it was time to call it a day. Clark was beginning to look tired and she knew she didn’t look much better. Odd, but this was the first time she ever remembered Clark actually looking tired.
“I’ll drive you home,” she offered.
The street celebrations marking the not-the-end-of-the-world were still going on, although Lois noted they seemed oddly subdued as compared to when the Monarchs won the World Series in ’88. That time the party devolved into near riots. This time, although the reason for celebration was even greater, people were being considerate of one another and there were hand painted signs all over the city: ‘Superman we love you’, and ‘God Bless you, Superman’.
Lois’s throat hurt from holding back the sobs she felt welling up in her chest.
Clark’s block was relatively quiet and she was able to find a parking space close by. He followed her into the building and up the steps to his apartment door. She flipped back the mat in front of the door and retrieved his door key.
“I keep telling you not to leave your key out like that, but you don’t listen,” she chided as she unlocked the door. She stepped aside for him to enter apartment but he hesitated.
“Go ahead. It's your place,” she urged.
Finally, he stepped past her to enter. She followed him, watching his reaction as he looked around.
“Does this look familiar?”
Clark shrugged. “Maybe... I don't know... Not yet.”
He wandered around the apartment, looking at the small collection of art and sculptures on the walls and shelves – of him and his parents, mostly. He checked the heavily laden bookshelves, scanning the titles. Lois noted that he didn’t seem surprised that so many of them weren’t in English. In fact, Lois wasn't altogether certain of how many languages Clark actually spoke or read.
He moved away from the books and picked up an old football from the shelf beside the collection of sports trophies. Lois watched as he smelled the leather then set it aside.
“You played in high school and college,” Lois said. “I’m told you were really good.”
Clark picked up a framed photo from end table - Jonathan and Martha, Clark’s parents. He gave her a curious look. “My parents?”
She nodded.
“They have blue eyes,” he pointed out.
“You’re adopted,” Lois explained.
“And my real parents? What about them?”
“The Kents adopted you when you were a baby,” Lois told him. “I don’t think they know anything about your biological parents.” She looked around the room. “Anything?”
Clark shook his head and started looking through the rest of the house. Lois followed him into his bedroom. He stopped and picked his wallet and keys off the top of the dresser. “I left my wallet and keys here?”
All Lois could do was shrug. “I guess you left in a hurry.” Why he had left his wallet and keys at home when he headed out the day before was a mystery. But then she realized that much of Clark was a mystery – certainly more than she had realized.
“Perry got hold of your parents before we left the office. They’re flying in tomorrow,” She told him.
“I don’t want to be a bother,” Clark protested.
“It’s not a bother,” Lois assured him. “They’re your parents and they love you.” She turned to leave. “I guess I should get home.”
“Do you have to? I could fix supper.”
Lois stopped to consider his offer. As much as she wanted to look for Superman, she knew that the odds were against him having survived. If he had survived, the best bet for him being found was if he contacted the authorities on his own. And Clark needed a familiar and friendly face around, at least a little while.
“That sounds good,” she agreed, dropping her purse on the floor by the sofa. She watched as he started toward the kitchen and then followed him into the other room. “I know you must be scared.”
“Sort of,” Clark admitted. “I know I’ve done all sorts of fantastic things, but I’m drawing a blank as to what they were. I recognize the languages in the books, I know I can read them, but I don’t remember learning them. It’s so frustrating.”
“You've been around the world. You have a family who loves you. Maybe that’s enough for right now,” Lois suggested.
“And we are friends, right?”
“Sure we're friends.”
“Are we... more than friends?” he asked. His expression was both worried and hopeful.
“More than ...? I told you. We're partners. We work closely together.”
“How close?”
“Close. Not close, close, but close,” she told him. His face fell and she felt awful for him. “Clark, we’re best friends and we haven’t let it go further than that.”
“Miss Grant tried to tell me that she and I… Well, that we were an ‘item’. Somehow I don’t believe her. I don’t think she was very happy with me.”
“See? Your memory's already starting to come back...” Lois joked.
That got a smile out of him. He rummaged through his cabinets and refrigerator to come up with something to serve the two of them. Finally, he pulled out a carton of eggs and a package of pre-sliced ham. “How does ham and eggs with onion and salad grab you?”
Lois had to stifle a laugh. It was so practical, simple, ‘Clark-like’. He may not remember who he was, but he was still the same Clark.
“I’ll set the table,” she said, finding the dishes and flatware in their usual places. She set the table for the two of them then prepared the salad. Clark chopped the ham and onion and started frying them with the eggs in the cast iron skillet she knew his mother had given him when he moved to Metropolis.
Lois was taking the salad to the table when she heard Clark gasp in pain and the skillet clatter onto the stovetop.
“Clark?” She ran to see what had happened.
He was holding his reddened right hand in his left, staring at it as if he hadn’t a clue.
“Put it under cold water,” Lois ordered as she turned off the heat under the skillet and looked around for a pot holder. She didn’t see one so grabbed a dishtowel and folded it over to use as she pulled the skillet off the stove and onto the counter. Then she checked on Clark. “Why did you grab the handle like that?” she demanded.
“I don’t know…” he admitted, pulling his burnt hand out of the running water and inspecting the damage.
Lois could see the blisters already forming.
“I guess I forgot the handle was hot…”
