Clark headed for Boston. He noticed that a news helicopter seemed to be turning to follow him, but he rapidly accelerated to just under the speed of sound and left them far behind. Once at a decent altitude, he sped up to Mach 2. Once again, a group of fighter jets began to close with him. Clark moved to intercept, and matched speeds, wondering what they wanted.

It was the same squad that he had encountered the day before. Clark waved, and the lead pilot nodded back at him. “Good afternoon, gentlemen. Sorry about yesterday. Can I help you?”

“If you wouldn't mind holding still for the cameras a second, I'd appreciate it.”

“Certainly.” Clark flew in tight formation while the squad took photographs. He noticed a couple of handheld cameras being used as well.

“Thank you. Would you be willing to return to base with us? Our C.O. would love to meet you.”

“I'm afraid I have a prior engagement in Boston. Please convey my apologies. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm running a little late. Have a good flight, gentlemen!” Clark put on a burst of speed and left the jets far, far behind.

He actually was going to be late now; he could make it, but only if he let his wake do damage to the neighborhood. Instead, he took it slowly.

As he descended to the Goldbergs' window, he noticed a couple of people in the street looking up and staring at him. He kept going past the window, projecting his voice sideways as he passed, “Lauren. I'm drawing attention. Back soon.” He started to fly away.

“Superman, wait!” A young man dressed in black stood up and waved frantically. He didn't seem to be in any trouble, so Clark ignored him, flew to his hotel and changed. Now in street clothes, he made his way back to the apartment on foot. As he walked up the street, an old woman stopped pacing listlessly and approached him; the young man in black stayed a few steps back, waiting for his attention.

“You feel special,” the woman declared. She had a distracted look. “Are you a demon?”

“No, ma'am.”

“Are you a good demon or a bad demon?”

“Neither, ma'am.”

“Why did you run away before?”

So much for the disguise.

“There's someplace I have to be.”

“Oh, me, too. Me, too.” The woman nodded sagely, as if she had said something very profound. “It's somewhere right around here.”

“Are you a magician, ma'am?”

“A magician? Heavens, no. I just hear the voices, sometimes.” She gave a half-hearted smile.

Another woman came out of the building, and approached them. Clark wondered how he was going to get out of this without bringing a horde descending on the Goldbergs. The newcomer walked over to the young man and stared at him for a moment; the boy grew flustered, as if developing an immediate crush on her. “Wait one second,” she told him, and walked up to the old woman. “Excuse me,” she spoke quietly. A moment later, her face fell. “Oh, you poor, poor thing,” she whispered.

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The old woman's eyes filled with tears. “Can you hear them?” she asked plaintively.

“Almost. I can feel them. I think we should be friends, Mary. Would you like to understand this better?”

I would, Clark thought but didn't say.

As if on cue, the young woman turned to him, beckoning the boy closer as well. “The Goldbergs said it was okay if I brought them up with us, Superman. Let's go inside before we draw more attention.”

Without further conversation, she beckoned them back to the building, and they all went upstairs and into the apartment.

“This is getting busy,” Sarah Goldberg commented; Clark recognized her voice from his earlier eavesdropping. The apartment now had seven people in it. “Can we have some introductions?” They went around briefly: Murray Goldberg, occultist. Sarah Goldberg, long-suffering daughter. Lauren Cooper, journalist. Cassandra Starbow, professional psychic. Alan Richards, college student, philosophy major. Mary gave no further description of herself. Clark took off his hat.

“Clark Kent, also known as Superman, current alias Calvin Ellis, true name Kal-El, of the planet Krypton in another universe. Ladies and gentlemen, I would appreciate your help in getting home.”

⛉ s ⛉

Doug listened to the radio as he drove, contemplating his fool's errand. The Boston University Physics Building wasn't emitting anything strange. Too bad this isn't a comic book, he thought wryly. If it were, I'd have been able to build a portable black supernova detector out of spare parts in about an hour, and homed right in on it. I'm wasting my time with this. I don't even know what I'm looking for.

“This just in, we've got another caller reporting a Superman sighting, this time flying over Beacon Street in the Back Bay. So far no superfeats this time, folks, but he's apparently back in the neighborhood, so let us know if you see him! Remember, during rush hour we'll be keeping a Sky Eye out for the Man of Steel, so help us out!”

Doug moved to switch off the radio, then hesitated. If word ever got back to the department that he had gone off on a Superman hunt, his chances of tenure were completely shot. Best to ignore it.

Oh, who the hell am I kidding? he asked himself. I'll never admit to anyone what I was up to today! He signaled a turn to take him towards Beacon Street.

⛉ s ⛉

The psychics were busy conferring about the “portal” that only they could sense. From what Lauren could gather, it was impossible to ignore for any genuine psychic in the city, and if there were any more out there, they would probably be along as soon as they were able. Murray Goldberg had accidentally created a psychic identification test, with the only positive results so far: an occultist, a Chicago palm reader, a crazy woman and an insecure young Goth. People were going to have to take this stuff seriously, if it wasn't all a hoax. Lauren took another look at the man hovering beside her and gave up on the hoax notion.

The world had changed.

And it was her scoop.

Lauren did her best to hide a predatory smile.

She watched Superman examine the tiny Bat dart, grinning. “I should have known.” He stared off into space, looking vindicated. “I'm real.”

“I think you've made the point rather emphatically by now, Superman,” Lauren commented. The Man of Steel turned to look at her.

“No, I mean I was real before yesterday. My world exists. No magician summoned this.” He held up the dart. “Batman did this on his own. Without being conjured.”

“You mean, Metropolis? Krypton? The entire comic book universe?”

Superman nodded. “If the portal is widened and I step through it, I won't be returning to some strange oblivion from which I was created by Mr. Goldberg; I'll be going home. I can go home.”

Lauren caught her breath. “But…but, Superman, no!” Her heart sank as he looked at her sadly and shook his head.

“I can't stay.”