Once again, thanks to Sas and Anne my Dutch Treat BRs.
There is a worry expressed about one particular American idiom that Tempus uses. If you have any problems with it, see the note at the end of this section. I thought about deleting it, but then realized that it is sooooo Tempus and fits so well, that I'm leaving it in. What are writers, if not teachers as well. And, given the location of this fic -- Kansas, it is even more apropos. So, check the note at the end if you have a question.
Otherwise -- just enjoy (at least I hope so)
* * *
From Part 6
Clark took Lois’ hand and moving it to his lips, kissed it. He then glanced over at the teenager who was staring at them. “You really don’t see it, do you?” he whispered to his wife. “She’s you! When the two of you were up there reading that scene, it was like watching a holon unfold.”
“Okay,” Lois said looking at Claire then back at him. “What’s a holon, smarty?”
“Arthur Koestler invented the word to describe a whole singularly unique entity which at the same time is a part of everything else,” Clark explained.
“Uh huh,” Lois said.
“The word doesn’t matter,” Clark told her. “I just have this..this feeling that she’s part of us--a very important part.”
* * *
Now for Part 7
“And he’s right. Huh, mommy?”
“Yes, he’s always right.”
“Honey. It’s getting late,” the little boy’s father said, peeking into the room.
“I know,” his wife answered. “Almost done.”
##########
Dystopia
December,
2121
The cell door clanged open as another prisoner was shoved into Wil’s jail room. Scott picked himself up and tearing off a corner of his tunic, wiped at the blood that was streaming down his face.
“Where is she?” Wil insisted, seeing that his new cellmate was Scott Purcell and abruptly turning the eighteen-year-old to look at the older man.
“I’m not sure, Mr. Kent,” Scott responded.
“You were with her. Weren’t you?”
“Of course I was, sir.”
“Then...why...?
“This weird man came out of nowhere and took her away.”
“What weird man? Where?” Wil barked, his breathing coming in fast pants.
“I couldn’t get to her. But it seemed she went willingly.”
“Willingly?”
“Yeah. Several members of the goon squad were trying to arrest us. This weird guy, dressed in some really old clothes, hit one of them with his umbrella and...”
“Old clothes,” Wil echoed, and paused. “Did you hear anything funny?”
“Well, now that you mention it, yeah--a sort of machine sound and then some steam or something billowed out. I don’t know what happened, exactly.”
“And your sister, Jessica?”
“She and Kia were in a safe house when I left them.”
Wil turned and walked the few steps it took him to get to the edge of the cell and for the first time in the days and weeks he had been there, he smiled.
* * *
Smallville, Kansas
Sunday,
March 20, 1994
Martha smiled at the Smallville Players clustered around her. “Thank you Dan and Cat, that was pretty good,” Martha told the two. “Now let’s do the scene again, this time with Dr. Post and Lois.”
Tempus stood up and moved toward center stage. “Isn’t this where you’d prefer to do the scene?” he asked self-gratifyingly.
“Of course, Dr. Post. That would be, oh, so much better.”
Clark leaned over to Lois. “What’s with Mom?” he whispered. “She...” he paused and tilted his head.
“What is it?” Lois asked, so familiar with that look.
“Fire alarm,” Clark explained. “And for once, I’m not upset at being called away,” he said indicating Dr. Post. “I have a feeling, there’s an ego problem here,” he said as he got up and pulled at his tie.
Lois smiled. “Well, he *is* a doctor. All doctors think they’re gods,” she explained. “And be careful,” she added as he headed toward the door.
“I’ll be back, Mom,” Clark called out as he opened the door quickly. “Uh..uh...” he began, trying to think of an excuse.
“Looks like a super emergency,” Dr. Post remarked.
Lois and Clark looked at each other, and then Clark rushed out the door while Lois got up to join Dr. Post.
“Are both of you ready?” Martha asked Lois and the doctor. “Just a reminder. Suzy has just thrown a vase full of ammonia at Roat, which allowed her to run over and turn off the lights at the fuse box, putting the stage into complete darkness. Okay, start.”
Suzy/Lois: (Quietly) I have your knife, Mr. Roat.
The directions told Tempus to pause and then strike a match. He mimed the action.
Roat/Tempus: (Very calmly) I can see you now, Suzy...I have a whole box of matches...you’re over by the safe.
As directed, Lois pretended to move carefully stage left by feeling the wall and then leaned down to pick something up. She turned and walked straight for the man who had threatened her.
Tempus looked at what Lois was supposedly carrying--a gallon can of gasoline.
Roat/Tempus: No! (He blows out the match) I’ve blown it out. It’s *out!*
The directions stated that just as the match was blown out, the audience would see Suzy using Roat’s voice to aim by, souse him thoroughly with the gasoline. Lois gestured with both hands as if to drench him.
As called for, Tempus choked and sputtered.
Suzy/Lois: Just try lighting a match *now!*
Roat/Tempus: I won’t!
Looking at her script, Lois again mimed the directed movement. She struck a match and held it out towards Tempus and moved two steps closer.
Suzy/Lois: Throw your matches onto the floor....now! Or I’ll set you on fire.
Roat/Tempus: They’re on the floor.
Suzy/Lois: Now stand perfectly still where you are...and listen.
“Lois, can I stop you here,” Martha interrupted. “I’d like you to go back a line or two and try this,” she told her daughter-in-law. “As you gradually regain command of the situation and win round after round, I want you become calmer and gentler until, finally, you speak rather like an experienced teacher talking to...to a rebellious child,” she directed. “I’m sure you know what I mean.”
“I understand, Martha,” Lois said. “Where do you want me to take it from?”
“How about, ‘throw your matches’.”
“Okay,” Lois responded. “Ready, Dr. Post?”
“Always,” he said. “I can be as petulant as the next fellow, darlin’.”
Suzy/Lois: Throw your matches onto the floor...now! Or I’ll set you on fire.
Roat/Tempus: They’re on the floor.
Suzy/Lois: (More calmly) Now stand perfectly still where you are...(With more strength in her voice)...and listen.
Tempus read the next directions and followed them. He began to tiptoe away.
Suzy/Lois: (Sharply, but deliberately) Don’t move! However quietly you move I can hear you.
The doctor stopped moving.
Suzy/Lois: Now listen...go slowly to the bedroom door and walk so I can hear you...go on. Now go inside...close the door and knock from the other side.
Roat/Tempus: What are you going to do?
Suzy/Lois: Just go in there--close the door and knock. I’m going to lock you in...go on.
Dr. Tim Post pretended to open the door, move inside and watch as Lois shut him in.
Martha looked over at Claire, then back to Lois and Dr. Post. “That was perfect,” she explained. Just perfect.”
* * *
Smallville, Kansas
Monday,
March 21, 1994
“Let me help you with that,” Claire told Martha as she took the cast list from the director to post in the window of the bookstore.
“I don’t think anyone will be surprised at the results,” Martha said to her new found relation. “I’m just hoping no one is upset.”
“You mean Miss Grant and Cindy,” Claire said as she finished taping the list to the glass.
“Well, it is a small cast, this time,” Martha rationalized. “And Cat couldn’t possibly *really* be interested in that character. It’s Cindy I’m concerned about. This will make the second play in a row that she’s been left out of.”
“Well, I could...”
“No!” Martha said emphatically. “You’re the right choice for several reasons. First you’re a wonderful young actress. Secondly, you’ve had much more experience,” Martha continued, plopping herself onto the sofa. “And most importantly of all, you’re needed, if we’re to carry out our plot.”
Claire smiled at her and joined her on the overstuffed couch.
“Remind me to select something less macabre for our next production,” Martha said, putting her arm around her distant granddaughter.
“How about ‘You’re A Good Man Charlie Brown’? Nothing sinister about that one.”
“Oh, we’d find something foreboding, even in that one,” Martha responded.
The two Kent women looked at each other and started to laugh.
* * *
Smallville, Kansas
Tuesday,
March 22, 1994
Tempus laughed as he perused the entire script he had picked up after he saw the cast posting. “This is just too easy,” he said out loud as he spun around in his office chair. “I get to play the cliché of the evil villain *and* get to keep Lois in my sights until *she* needs me. Hmmmm, maybe it’s Superman who needs the help getting his guys to swim upstream!” Tempus exclaimed as he got up to regard himself in the mirror and laughed again.
* * *
Dystopia
December,
2121
“Is there one here who calls himself Wil Kent?” the Inquisitor asked.
“I’m Wil Kent,” Scott Purcell said, stepping forward.
“No, Scott,” Wil said, putting his arm around the young man. “Remember when I played Quixote and was asked the same thing? I, that is *he*, faced it. We have to face up to these men. And I’m the one that has to do it. No one can do it for me. We have to show them that we stand for what we believe in. Just like we did--when was that--before I lost her, before my world changed, before *our* world changed--back on that stage.”
* * *
Utopia
April,
2121
Tempus viewed himself in the make-up mirror as he prepared for his next entrance. Yes, he was a member of this petty, meaningless group--he was there playing a part. This entire utopian world was a stage, just as Shakespeare prophesied, and all of them were merely players, but not for long. He had found the means to change the world around him--to make it the way he wanted it--no, the way he needed it.
He needed a world he could dominate, and not this world--this world full of music and light--this world without violence, temptation or greed. Tempus craved power, lusted after omnipotence and ached to be a vengeful god.
He simply had to wrest this section of the world out of the hands of the Kent family dynasty, and would win! He was scheduled to leave for the past shortly and then...then....
On stage, Wil Kent as Don Quixote heard the trumpets blare, signaling the arrival of his arch enemy.
Tempus moved to stage right and watched as the man he hated, took center stage once again. “Wil Kent!” Tempus muttered under his breath. “Don Quixote, the man who tilts at windmills.”
On stage the music grew louder with the addition of more brass, trumpeting the appearance of an entourage--liveried attendants preceding a knight--a knight tall and terrifying in fantastic armor. He wore a chain-mail tunic on which were mounted tiny mirrors that glittered and dazzled the eyes. On his head was a mask-like casque, only his eyes were visible through slits. From the crest of the helmet sprang great plumes, accentuating what seemed already to be an incredible stature. In his hand was a naked, shining sword. The music ceased as the cavalcade with Tempus in the role of the knight at its head came to a halt.
Knight of the Mirrors/Tempus: (His voice harsh and clangorous) Is there one here who calls himself Don Quixote de La Mancha? If there is--and he is not afraid to look upon me--let him stand forth!
Don Quixote/Wil: (After a long pause, voice shaking) I am Don Quixote, Knight of the Woeful Countenance.
Knight of the Mirrors/Tempus: (His voice magnified and metallic within the casque) Now hear me, thou charlatan! Thou are no knight, but a foolish pretender. Thy pretence is a child’s mockery, and thy principles, dirt beneath my feet!
Don Quixote/Wil: (Trembling with anger) Oh, false knight! Discourteous! Before I chastise thee, tell me thy name.
Knight of the Mirrors/Tempus: Thou shalt hear it in due course.
Don Quixote/Wil: Then say why thou seekest me out!
Knight of the Mirrors/Tempus: (Mockingly) Thou called upon me, Don Quixote. Thou reviled me and threatened.
Don Quixote/Wil: The Enchanter! (He tears off his left gauntlet, flinging it at the knight’s feet) Behold at thy feet the gage of battle!
* * *
Smallville, Kansas
Wednesday,
March 23, 1994
Tempus leaned down and picked up the script that Clark had dropped. “You’ll need this,” he said to him.
Clark looked at the man sitting next to him during the read through of the play. There was something about him. Clark shook it off. He had said the same thing about Richard in the previous play--Richard who turned out to be the resurrected Lex Luthor. Could Dr. Post be as evil as...? No. Clark was imagining things. This couldn’t be happening a second time. Besides, Dr. Post was getting a good reputation in town. A couple members of the faculty at the high school had mentioned that he was a darn nice guy.
* * *
Utopia
April,
2121
In the wings, Claire watched the villain of the piece strut his stuff. Tempus was new to their theatre group and an unknown entity--but was incredibly perfect in the role. Was he that good of an actor, Claire wondered, or simply typecast.
Knight of the Mirrors/Tempus: (Suddenly very cold) On what terms do we fight?
Don Quixote/Wil: Choose thine own!
Knight of the Mirrors/Tempus: Very well. If thou art beaten, thy freedom is forfeit and thou must obey my every command. (Don Quixote bows coldly) And thy conditions?
Don Quixote/Wil: If thou art still alive, thou shalt kneel and beg mercy of my lady Dulcinea.
Knight of the Mirrors/Tempus: (Even more mockingly than before) Where shall I find this lady?
Don Quixote/Wil: There she stands.
The Knight of the Mirrors turned his eyes to Aldonza--her rags, her bruises, her ruined face. He began to laugh in cruel derision.
Knight of the Mirrors/Tempus: Thy lady. . . is an alley cat!
Don Quixote/Wil: (Drawing his sword in fury) Monster! Defend thyself!
Knight of the Mirrors/Tempus: (Stepping back) Hold! Thou asked my name, Don Quixote. Now I shall tell it. I am called --The Knight of the Mirrors!
The Knight swung forward his shield. Its surface was polished steel, a mirror, which blinded and bewildered Don Quixote. The attendants revealed similar mirrors. In a choreographic pattern, Quixote reeled from one to the other, stopped always up against his own image.
Knight of the Mirrors/Tempus: Look, Don Quixote! Look in the mirror of reality and behold things as they truly are. Look! What seest thou, Don Quixote? A gallant knight? Naught but an aging fool!
Don Quixote recoiled from his own image, only to be brought up against another.
Knight of the Mirrors/Tempus: Look! Dost thou see him? A madman dressed for a masquerade!
Attempting escape, Quixote found himself facing yet another mirror.
Knight of the Mirrors/Tempus: Look, Don Quixote! See him as he truly is! See the clown!
Quixote reeled away yet again, only to find the mirrors converging as the knight and his attendants closed down upon him.
Knight of the Mirrors/Tempus: Drown, Don Quixote. Drown--drown in the mirror. Go deep--the masquerade is ended!
Quixote collapsed to his knees.
Knight of the Mirrors/Tempus: Confess! Thy lady is a trollop, and thy dream the nightmare of a disordered mind!
Don Quixote/Wil: (In dazed desperation) I am Don Quixote, knight-errant of La Mancha...and my lady is the Lady Dulcinea. I am Don Quixote, knight-errant...and my lady...my lady...
Quixote, beaten, sank to the floor.
Knight of the Mirrors/Tempus: (Removing the casque from his head) It is done!
* * *
Smallville, Kansas
Thursday,
March 24, 1994
“It’s done!” Liz Lathrop sang out as she entered the office of Dr. Post. “The Red Kryptonite has been altered into a form that can more readily enter Lois’ blood stream and that of the baby’s. Lois will, at first, have an adverse reaction. But she will recover,” Liz lied. “Although the effect on the fetus will be permanent.”
“Well, hooray for our side,” Tempus said mockingly. “If it works as well as the subliminal hypnotic, you completed on Monday, and which I’ve already peddled to these ovine Okies, then we’re off to the races.”
* * *
“Ouch!” H.G. Wells exclaimed as the hammer came down on his finger. “How, precisely, do you accomplish this?” he asked Jonathan Kent.
Jonathan laughed. “You don’t have to help me, Mr. Wells. I can handle this part on my own now that we have the schematic plans all worked out.”
“I wish to do my apportionment,” the time traveler demanded.
“Well, it’s just about finished,” Jonathan told him, stepping back to survey their work. “You can’t even notice it’s here.”
Wells closed the door that was located on the set and scrutinized their effort. “Yes, Mr. Kent.” he said. “This will do rather nicely.”
* * *
Smallville, Kansas
Sunday,
March 27, 1994
Claire watched Lois and Rod while they spent two hours going through the usage of the cane, how to attempt to judge distances, and how to use one’s hands as another tool of communication. The young woman stared at Rod. How alike he was to his descendent, Scott Purcell. They both were determined, and no matter what barriers were thrown at them, they would overcome them easily.
“Can I ask you a few questions,” Lois inquired of Rod as she sat down next to Claire in the rehearsal hall.
“Sure,” Rod said. “Fire away.”
“There’s this scene where I have to hit Clark, that is Sam. Can you show me how you would swing your arm when you don’t know what it might connect with?”
“Okay,” Rod said and moved his arm, flailing about in the air.
“Thank you,” Lois told him. “Ummm. Just one more question,” she said pausing.
“Whatever I can do to help,” Rod said. “Just ask it.”
“Do you close your eyes when you kiss?”
Rod paused and a quizzical look came across his face. “I don’t know. I mean I’ve kissed a few girls, but I’m just not sure.”
Claire smiled. “Well, why don’t we put it to the test,” she said teasingly, and walked up to him. “I’m right here.”
Rod stood in front of her and gently reaching out his hand, found her face. He touched her cheek and with the back of his hand, slowly stroked her in order to decipher her features. “You’re beautiful,” he whispered and leaned in to kiss her.
* * *
Dystopia
December,
2121
Scott Purcell sat down next to Wil Kent as the two attempted to eat the food thrust at them.
“She’ll be okay,” Scott told Claire’s father. “Somehow I feel that someone’s looking out for her.”
* * *
Smallville, Kansas
Monday,
March 28, 1994
Martha looked up from the counter of the Cabbages and Kings book store as the four young people entered. "Do you need something special?" she asked.
"No," Keith told her, "just a place to meet on our project."
Claire sat down on the overstuffed couch and arranged her notes in front of her on the large antique trunk, which was covered with decoupaged posters from some of the Smallville Players previous productions.
Rod followed Claire and sat down, sliding in very close to her. He took out a couple of Braille cards that he had made, and the two of them leaned in collaboratively to talk about their portion of the project.
Anne and Keith sat in the two chairs across from Rod and Claire. Anne tried to concentrate on the notes she and Keith had written and had planned to review, but found she couldn’t. She kept watching Rod and Claire. "I guess I’m done," she told Keith.
"Me too," Keith said, noticing that she was on the verge of tears. "I’ll walk you out."
Claire looked up. "That was quick! We’ll see you later," she told the two students as they exited the store.
Martha watched them leave and crossed over to Rod and Claire. "Would you like some hot chocolate?" Martha asked the two remaining students.
"That would be nice, Mrs. Kent," Rod told her.
"Well, can you watch the store for me just a minute, while I go across the street to the market?"
"You don’t have to do that on our account," Claire insisted.
"No, no," Martha indicated. "No trouble at all, I need to get a couple of things, anyway."
As soon as Rod heard the tinkle of the front door, he took Claire’s hand and leaned in.
"Wait, Rod," Claire said, removing her hand.
"What is it?" he asked her. "I thought after last evening...."
"I know. But there’s something I have to tell you," she began, not knowing where to start. Somehow sharing a secret was important, especially before a relationship could develop trust; and she needed Rod to trust her, because here, in Rod Purcell, she had found her ally.
"Rod," she began, and then paused as the bell over the front door tinkled, and Principal White entered the store.
"Mrs. Kent is holding a book for me," he explained to the two young people. "Ah, here it is," he pointed out, picking up the latest biography on Elvis from the counter. "Just tell her to put it on my account," he informed them, and walked out again.
"What were you going to tell me?" Rod asked, after the door closed behind the principal.
Claire took a deep breath. "Rod. Remember when I first came into Mrs. Kent’s classroom, I said that I was from the future?"
"Yeah. We all thought you were a kook. But a nice one," he said, smiling and taking her hand again.
"Well, it’s true."
"What’s true?" he asked, not totally comprehending what she meant.
"I’m from the future," she explained, and got up from the couch to pace.
"Sure, and pigs can fly," he retorted, trying to figure out where she was.
"Well, Superman can."
"Hey! Stop moving around, I’m having a hard time following you both physically and contextually."
"I said Superman can," she repeated, stopping in front of him and sitting down again. "And that’s just the point," Claire explained, taking both of his hands. "Superman can fly--*I* can travel...through...time," Claire told him slowly and deliberately.
"Okay, Miss 25th Century."
"Twenty-second, actually."
"Uh...who wins Friday night’s Basketball game?" he challenged.
"What?" she asked, somewhat frustrated, and dropped his hands to get up to pace again. "I *don’t* know!" she contended. "I don’t know anything about sports. And don’t you dare ask me about the...the Super Series or the World Bowls either. I know those are the standard questions to catch people in a lie--I’ve seen those sci fi movies."
"Super Bowls and World Series," Scott corrected, somewhat sharply.
"What? Whatever!"
"You have to be prepared if you want people to believe you," Rod insisted.
"Wait! What’s today’s date?"
"March 28th. Why?"
"Okay," she retorted, as an idea hit her, and she sat down again. "Tonight’s the Oscars for 1993, right?"
"I’m not sure. Maybe," he said, his voice becoming more cynical.
"Well, I don’t know anything about sports, but I *know* about acting. The winners are Tom Hanks, Holly Hunter and Schindler’s List."
"Even if you’re right, those might just be lucky guesses," he argued.
"Listen to my voice," she told him. "You *know* I’m telling you the truth."
"So why are you here, then?"
"To prevent an incredibly evil man from...," she began, and then stopped suddenly as she heard the shuffle of feet as a woman came from behind the last row of bookshelves.
"Oh, hello," the woman said. "Where’s Mrs. Kent? Did she leave?"
"She’ll be right back," Claire informed her. "Can I help you?"
"Would you tell her that I didn’t find what I was looking for and I’ll come back another day?"
Claire nodded and then paused, waiting for the woman to exit. She bit her lower lip. The woman couldn’t have heard; and if she did, it couldn’t possibly have meant anything to her. Claire shook her head. Had she slipped up? Well, their plan was to take place in four days. Surely this wouldn’t interfere. No, it....
"To prevent what?" Rod asked, reminding her where she had left off.
Claire returned her gaze to Rod. "To...to avert an evil man from destroying my world! Please believe me, because I may need your help!"
Outside the door to the Cabbages and Kings book store, the woman paused as she pulled on some gloves. Liz Lathrop smiled and limped away.
* * *
tbc.
Note: 'ovine Okies' ovine (sheeplike) Okies is a derogatory term for unsophistocated people from Oklahoma (which borders Kansas on the south). The term Okies comes from the poor farmers who left Oklahoma during the Great Depression/Dust Bowl of the 1930s and headed west to California to start life over.
