A bunch of animals started making noise as Doug drove down a side street to avoid traffic. Dogs were barking in several buildings, cats were yowling, squirrels were making their little hacking sound that people often mistook for some weird birdcall. They were all doing it at once, and Doug pulled over. “All right, fine. Ultrasonics, it is.” He started up the oscilloscope and rummaged for a microphone; he hadn't thought to bring one, but the one from his dictation unit would do if he was lucky enough to bring a connector—there.
Doug fiddled with the knobs, and looked at the readouts. He'd played with electronics enough to know the messy waveforms of human speech when he saw them—only these were scaled up to 20,000 Hertz. Someone was speaking at a frequency that only animals could hear. He couldn't record at length, but the new 'scope could capture several seconds and he could step it down into audible range later.
⛉ s ⛉
“Batman to Superman. If you can hear this message, follow the sound to the transmitter, then press the lower button to respond.”
Clark winced at the volume before he could reduce his hearing sensitivity, then held up a hand to forestall further discussion with Lauren. A quick inspection with microscopic vision did reveal two tiny buttons; a finely controlled fingernail depressed the lower one. The ultrasonic squeal mercifully fell silent, as did the neighborhood dogs a moment later. Sorry about that, fellas.
“Superman responding. Call is not private.” He spoke in moderately low tones to the dart/communicator.
“Understood.”
I doubt it, Clark thought bemusedly.
“Status?” Batman’s voice was now quiet enough that Clark had to listen closely to hear it; Lauren probably couldn't make it out at all.
“Unharmed. Summoned by a magician to effect a rescue. Accomplished. Alternate Earth, different history, different laws of physics. Powers slightly affected. Problems getting me back.”
“Hostility?”
“No, competence. Can you get help on your end?”
“I'll see what I can do. Battery power is draining on that communicator, faster than it should. I'll send another. Do you have access to the opening?”
“Yes.”
“Then check in with me in a few hours. Batman out.”
⛉ s ⛉
Lauren only heard half of that conversation, and most of her mind was on trying to marshal arguments to persuade Superman to stay in the real world. She had to find a way to convince him. Superman appeared to finish listening, and tucked the Bat dart into his coat pocket.
“Superman, you have to stay. We need you here.”
“They need me there, too.”
“But this world is real!”
“So is mine, Lauren. I know it feels differently to you, but it's just as solid as this one.”
Lauren flailed, desperate not to blow this moment on behalf of humanity. “You're the first alien this world has ever seen! At least talk to NASA about what's out there.”
Superman leaned against the refrigerator and crossed his arms. “There's a lot different between the worlds. Did you know, the periodic tables don't even match? We've got forty more stable elements than you do. There's no way of knowing that anything like the same races inhabit the same planets. Besides—you should be grateful that you haven't encountered aliens yet. The human race needs more time to get ready before that happens. Without superpowers to aid in the defense of Earth, you'd be overrun by the first hostile race to come along, or permanently beholden to any advanced race that stepped in to defend you.”
“We need you, Superman,” was all Lauren could think to say.
“To do what, Ms. Cooper? To act as 100,000 extra police officers? Why not just hire 100,000 more? To stop hurricanes? Why not take reasonable precautions? There are no alien invasions going on here. No giant robots destroying cities. As far as I can tell, hardly any mad scientists with doomsday devices. No villains with superpowers trying to conquer the world. Not even any ancient gods or curses that need cleaning up after. Compared to my Earth, Ms. Cooper, you have nothing to complain about!”
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“We need you to…to…to have something to believe in!”
Clark Kent looked stern, almost angry. “That's the last thing you need me for.”
“I don't mean—”
“I didn't invent honesty, Ms. Cooper! I didn't invent justice. I didn't invent truth, or integrity, or nobility. You've had those all along. They live in every human being who values them.”
Lauren groped desperately for the words she needed. “But you're the living symbol of them. You're strong enough to uphold them!”
“Do you think that nobody lies in Metropolis?”
“No, but—”
“Do you think that I'm the only person capable of telling the truth?”
“No—”
“Then stop avoiding your responsibility!”
Lauren stopped short, her thoughts derailed, and blinked. “What?”
Clark Kent leaned towards her, arms still crossed against his chest. “Ms. Cooper, of all my powers: flight, strength, and so on: which do you think is the most important?”
Lauren thought she knew where he was headed. “Your integrity.”
“I said powers.”
Lauren blinked again, and thought quickly. “Your invulnerability?”
The Man of Steel shook his head. He gave her another moment, during which she came up empty, then he sighed. “My keyboard.”
⛉ s ⛉
Doug had a rough estimate of the direction of the ultrasonic signal, which had vanished again. He was nervous as he pulled various pieces of equipment from the back seat and tried them out. He didn't want to be spotted. He didn't want word to get back to MIT about his folly. And he had a nasty premonition that the ultrasonic signal was not the only thing that was going to disappear without any verifiable trace, leaving him looking like an unsubstantiated crackpot.
I can claim I was debunking something, he told himself, if anyone asks what I was doing with all this assorted equipment in my car. The Geiger counter readings were close enough to normal that he suspected the occasional bursts were insignificant. The Hall magnetometer was showing some fluctuations, but those could be easily dismissed as a result of city steel and electronics. Doug knew that he was several feet away from anything potentially disruptive, but no one else would know or believe that.
The magnetic field variations would be stronger near the source, however, so Doug proceeded to walk around, sniffing the air with the sensor in one hand, hauling the rest of the magnetometer and its power pack with the other. Eventually, he found the right building. It was easy enough to get buzzed in; he simply fibbed that he was checking for a small gas leak, and that there wasn't any danger. His equipment looked (and was) far too expensive to be used in a breaking and entering scam, so people let him be. He checked out each entry in the building.
He was grateful for the regular walks and bike rides he used to stay somewhat in shape; while no athlete, he hadn't let his body go completely to seed during his academic career. Lugging the magnetometer and the Geiger counter up three flights still took a noticeable effort, but not enough to stop him. Finally, he found the right door, and rang the bell.
⛉ s ⛉
Sarah Goldberg had been listening to everything going on around her in a sort of daze. Dad was happy as a clam at high tide, arguing with his new friends. Sarah noted that Mary, the crazy woman, had pocketed an old family photo in a silver frame. Frankly, the frame was a small price to pay to be rid of the woman, in Sarah's estimation, but she would kill the old biddy before letting her leave with one of the precious few pictures of her mother they still possessed. She said nothing yet; she would wait until the crazy woman tried to leave, then reclaim the picture.
The reporter was talking with the man dressed up as Clark Kent. She still didn't buy the story, but didn't know what the truth was either, so she was holding her tongue. Mom had always stressed the importance of politeness to guests. Besides, the conversation was interesting, when considered in the abstract. It sounded as if the reporter was about to get a good dressing-down, which would serve her right for barging into their lives like this.
The doorbell rang. Conversation momentarily stopped. Oh, damn. Sarah looked around at the chaos in the apartment, then stood. It always seemed to fall to her to clean up Dad's messes. “I'll get it. Mr. and Ms. Reporters, if you would care to use my father's office and shut the door, I'll let you finish your conversation in peace while I deal with this.” They both nodded to her and did as she suggested.
When they had disappeared effectively, Sarah checked the peephole, didn't know who she was looking at, then shrugged and opened the door. “Yes? May I help you?”
The man looked like one of her professors, except that he was sweating under the load of a lot of equipment. “Good afternoon, ma'am. Umm…” He seemed to be at a loss for what to say next. Sarah felt a headache coming on.
“Yes?”
“Um…may I come in for a moment?”
“Why?”
“I'm…looking for something.”
“Does it belong to you?”
“Ah…well, no…”
Sarah gave up, and turned around, still blocking access with her arm. “Dad?” she called. “Is this guy one of yours?”
In the living room, Dad said something indistinct to Cassandra, who nodded and came over to the door. She seemed to stare at the strange man for a moment, then straightened up a bit. “Sir? Are you a scientist?”
“Yes.”
“Are you a very, very open-minded scientist?”
The man hesitated. “I want to understand what's happening. Please; may I come in, at least for a minute?”
“Promise not to interfere.”
“In what?”
“Promise,” Sarah added, backing Cassandra up.
Again, the man hesitated. “If you're not hurting anybody in there, I won't interfere.”
Cassandra and Sarah exchanged glances, and nodded. Sarah withdrew her arm and held the door open wider. “Good enough. Welcome to the funny farm, Mr. Scientist.”
“Thank you.” With a thud the man set down some machine he was carrying on the kitchen floor. “May I take a few readings in here?”
“Just stay out of the way.”
And then there were eight, Sarah thought wearily. She made sure the apartment door was locked securely again, then went looking for a pain reliever.