Murray Goldberg was having the time of his life.
Cassandra was a treasure trove. A second perspective was invaluable. The other two, Alan and Mary, weren't terribly helpful, but it was his mess, and they did have some talent, so it only seemed polite to let them stay. Unfortunately, Murray had absolutely no idea how to undo what he had done. He would simply have to experiment.
Come to that, he didn't really have much idea of what he had done. Sure, the man claimed to be Superman; he had the outfit, he hovered convincingly—but what did that really mean? He didn't look like any of the actors who played Superman, and he wasn't a walking cartoon sketch. So exactly which Superman was he, anyway?
The scientist fellow was playing with more equipment that he'd brought up from his car, and scribbling in a notebook—now, that was something Murray could empathize with, at least. Aside from announcing low—but not dangerous—levels of radiation coming from the hole, the man was staying in one corner of the room, apparently fascinated by something he said was stuck in the easy chair. A magnetic anomaly, monopoly, or something like that. He seemed to be fixated on digging it out, which kept him out of everyone's hair, even if it endangered the upholstery a bit.
Murray had told the other psychics some of the basics of his work. There didn't seem to be anything else to do now, except demonstrate. He took several deep breaths, centering himself. “Watch the spot two feet in front of my nose,” he announced when he was ready. Everyone in the room did so. Murray summoned the light.
Ow. Murray winced at the pain. I was afraid that might happen.
The light sprang into existence, flickered, and went out. That was enough to draw gasps of amazement from the onlookers; it impressed the hell out of everyone except Murray himself, who knew he could do better. Slowly, more gingerly, he tried again.
This time, the light stayed, and it didn't hurt so much. Murray decided to take it slowly, and didn't push for more than that just yet.
“Holy shit.”
“What the…?”
“Are you doing that?”
“Dad…?” The quiet shock in his daughter's voice almost made him lose his concentration. There was a decade of vindication in that hushed acknowledgement, and Murray smiled a smile that went all the way deep. It lent him strength, and the light steadied.
“I can do this for minutes at a time, when I'm rested,” he explained.
Cassandra cupped her hands beneath the light, staring, concentrating. She closed her eyes. “Yes,” she breathed. “Yes, please, hold it like that…” Murray felt resistance, as if he were trying to move the light—and then the light moved without his willing it.
“What—?” He sputtered, and the light flickered. Suddenly tired, he let it go out.
“Sorry! Sorry, that was me,” Cassandra explained. They stared at each other in excited wonder. Then the scientist fellow came over.
“Uh, sir, I could get you a lot of money if you could do that repeatably in a laboratory.”
Murray smiled smugly. “I know.”
⛉ s ⛉
Blowing her nose on a tissue, Lauren reflected that she'd like this little scene edited out of her memoirs. Then she caught herself. Honesty. She grimaced. Well, she had decades to think about that one, hopefully.
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She brought her mind back to the present. “Superman, if you leave, I'm going to have a hell of a time convincing people that you were ever here.”
He looked surprised. “I've been on television all over the place by now, and met hundreds of people.”
“This is a cynical world, Superman. Anything can be faked on video now. Digital evidence is always suspect unless it's massively corroborated. And having hundreds of believers won't be enough for some people—just look at religion.”
“Well, what do you suggest?”
“I'm not sure.” Lauren had been fretting about it subconsciously for a while now. “Even if you spoke at the United Nations, people would fail to believe you're you, and not some actor pretending, unless you were to show off all your powers in demonstrations. Maybe even then some world leaders would think they were duped.”
“Perhaps if I did something permanent, that everyone could verify?”
“It would have to be something we can't do ourselves. Something so impossible that believing in you is the simplest explanation,” Lauren warned.
“Maybe I should just carve ‘Superman was here’ on the face of the moon,” he mused in a serious tone. Lauren stared at him, horrified. A moment later he grinned. “Gotcha.”
Who knew he had a sense of humor? Lauren smiled and shook her head. “Well, something involving space travel might work, especially if we could see the results in telescopes. We haven't even been back to the Moon in decades.”
Superman looked surprised. “Really? I knew it was a bit thin up there…” He seemed lost in thought for a moment. “I think I may have an idea. I'll need to check how well I can fly in space, though; I don't fully trust my powers in this universe.”
“Why not?”
“My heat vision doesn't work, and the laws of physics are different here. It hasn't particularly affected my flying yet, but I haven't tried getting so far from the opening into my world yet. I think I'll go check.”
“How long will you be gone?” Lauren asked in alarm.
“I'll try to be back in a few hours; I have to call Batman back. I'll be unable to hear anyone once I leave the atmosphere, you understand—I'll be out of touch. If you absolutely have to get in touch with me, shine a laser at the Moon from somewhere around here, and I'll spot the beam.”
He began to undress, revealing his Superman costume under the Clark Kent apparel. His motion was very rapid and involved some hovering, but Lauren could have sworn that it was under four seconds total. “Whoa.”
“Yeah, I have to take it very slowly in this universe, or the clothes rip.” Lauren blinked. “Now if you'll excuse me, Lauren, I've got a long trip to make in the next few hours. Wish me luck.” He opened the window and flew out.
“How do you breathe?” Lauren called after him, not really expecting an answer.
“I hold my breath!” he called back, and there was a sound as if he were inhaling deeply enough to cause a small windstorm. “Back soon!”
Lauren leaned out the window, amazed again to watch him soar up, up and away.
⛉ s ⛉
Clark filled his lungs and rose into space. It was time to test his speed here. He accelerated, gaining kilometers, then tens of kilometers. He pushed harder, and Mach numbers became meaningless in the vacuum. The curve of the Earth became visible, then more pronounced. The familiar constellations came out, the same as the ones back home. He glanced, as always, in the direction where Krypton once lay, and wondered whether it had ever been, here.
He climbed higher, and decided to stop for a moment and check how he was doing. As he rested, something seemed strange, and due to lack of reference points it took a moment for him to figure it out. He hadn't stopped! He was still rising, with no extra effort at all! Momentarily alarmed, he tried diving back towards Earth. He was accelerating; he could feel it. Yet he was still climbing! With greater effort he pushed himself downward, and eventually stopped.
Everything seemed normal again.
Clark puzzled over that for a minute, then smiled. This was going to be easier than he'd thought.
⛉ s ⛉
Lauren stared at the neatly folded clothes, then gave in to temptation. She felt in the coat pocket for the Bat dart and examined it closely. She squinted, trying to see the tiny buttons, and pursed her lips, considering.
“Don't even think about it.”
Lauren shrieked and dropped the thing. The deep voice had some unmistakable menace in it. How did he know? she wondered, picking it up quickly and stuffing it back into the coat pocket, then wiping her hands off on her pants and stepping away for good measure.
He's a comic book hero. He doesn't kill people. Does he? Lauren wasn't sure; she hadn't ever been particularly into comic books. Besides, he's in another universe. What could he do to me?
Lauren decided that she didn't want to find out. Superman was a nice guy; his universe wasn't so nice.
Maybe it's best that we don't have a full-sized door between the worlds.