A World of Difference

A World Of Difference
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"That is the end of the tests", said the doctor briskly, "We examined your body for every known ailment the human body suffers from...and some more, given that it is you" He paused, "There's only one conclusion, unfortunately...and there is no cure for that".

Life sure has its ironies! He had faced 'death' rays, cosmic explosions, nuclear radiation and a million other perils and had emerged unscathed. Yet, here he was, an easy victim to that relentless scourge- old age!

As he streaked through the sky away from the Metropolis Medical Research Centre, the Man of Steel looked at his body with a new eye. A gray and balding head. Lines on the forehead. A sag under the eye. And..a more noticeable sag around the midriff. Why, oh why had he chosen this costume? It contoured his degenerating body with graphic cruelty. Why, as he learnt of Krypton and its superhuman society those long years ago, had he not realized that those gods do age? Should not have his teacher, mentor and father, Jor El, prepared him for this? "Our metabolic rate does drop, my son" he should have said, "Our cells do degenerate, and in time, do refuse to regenerate".

But that was not the worst of it. He had visited the Center in desperation, looking for a cure to his latest vulnerability- his respiratory system. For the past months, his throat burned and his lungs seared whenever he breached the Mach barrier. "CFCs and Lead deposits, Superman", said the doctor, "The atmosphere is full of them and other industrial pollutants. You might be nearly invulnerable even in the most poisonous environs and even in vacuum, but prolonged exposure seemed to have had its toll on your lungs".

Lead Deposits! In the air! Who would have dreamt of it? In his insouciant youth, he had neglected to analyze his weakness with Lead. An easy conclusion to jump to: X-Rays are indeed absorbed by Lead, and he had attributed his X-Ray blindness to Lead to just that phenomenon. Little had he realized that Lead was in abundance on Krypton and though it was not as lethal as Kryptonite was to him, it had weakened him by attrition. He had always taken his powers for granted- which other power was going to fail next?

It could have been worse...if Luthor, for instance, knew about his latest weakness...but there was no danger of that- the Center was sworn to secrecy. And his nose filter was unobtrusive, thanks to his researches at the Fortress up North. He still needed to perfect it, but it would suffice for now.

Luthor! He thought wistfully of the days gone. His Lois was no more - lost to that terrible and mysterious new syndrome. The emptiness of their relationship had driven her to the arms of many men and finally to death. Through necessity, Clark Kent had retired from the Daily Planet and had disappeared into oblivion. Even Luthor, despite all the energy his hate had given him, was now a old invalid somewhere. He was alone and more isolated than ever, it seemed.

Not that he ever felt a part of this world anymore. Not since the spate of lawsuits against him- "Supes exposed: X-Ray vision a violation of Privacy!"; "Superman's stands against nuclear and chemical weaponry: threat to national security?";"Mid-life crisis for mild mannered reporter: sexual exploitation suit against Clark Kent". That indeed was the unkindest cut. With no Perry to stand by him, Clark Kent had to retire in disgrace, under a blaze of notoriety, from the organization he had loved for so many years. He still could not understand it- he had ever been only a gentleman with Dinah. How could she have betrayed him?

For the first time in his life, he found himself looking at the human race with an alien eye- almost with repulsion. Where were the clean American values he had cherished? How could he accept these latest perversions of the human race- bloodthirsty school kids, pedophiles in the Church, manic terrorist attacks...

"You always were old fashioned, Superman", he remembered Lois saying, "Times change". They sure did- he now knew how Alice must have felt, looking from the outside in, at a world where absurdity was normal. He was in a crisis alright, as the newspapers screamed; just not a mundane 'mid-life' crisis.

He came out of his thoughts with a start. His super hearing detected an insistent alarm signal at the outskirts of the city. Action at last! He put on a burst of speed and homed in on the warehouse building from which the signal emanated. He grimaced- a Lead lined shed- he couldn't see through it. The door was not shut- he wouldn't have to break it open. He walked into the dark building, his senses on the alert, his mind calm, his worries forgotten for the moment. Where was the alarm? He scanned the room quickly, and saw the machine.

Suddenly, a tremendous jet of air emerged from the machine, pushing him backward. The scream of the wind was submerged by an ear-splitting boom- the jet velocity had passed the sound barrier. Before he could react, he was hit with a spray of sharp pellets- the jet was not all air. He felt a burning pain in his chest- what was it? He was collapsing- his mind incredulous. Lead! These were fine Lead pellets, almost molecular in size, penetrating his blood stream, he realized. And his yet imperfect filter had failed under the onslaught.

He needed to fly out of the jet, stop the flow..but his body refused to obey his brain's commands. Suddenly, as he sank to the ground, he saw a grim, lined face in the dim light. Luthor! after all these years! He had been betrayed...someone at the Center had talked...he felt his senses slip away, he was losing conciousness...this was then the end...


CLARK KENT woke up with a start, sweating. He was in his apartment, on his bed. A dream! No Luthor, no 'Lead jet'. As realization dawned, he smiled in relief and then laughed- it is not often that Superman had nightmares. And what a fantasy it was...pollutants in the air, mindless lawsuits...the stuff only nightmares are made of, not of the real world that he knew. He would have never credited himself with so much imagination!

He shook himself, and looked out the window. A new day, bright and clean- he told himself pointedly. We have our weaknesses and our Luthors, he thought, but there is a limit to our destructive tendencies, surely. He paused in front of the mirror and looked at the strong, sculpted face before him. He smiled and touched his well-known curl of hair- for even Supermen have their vanities. He then opened the window, and streaked out into the Sun, with another day to live...and another day to save.