SUPERMAN vs THE UNIVERSE
Rao. The red sun of Krypton. Witness to the end of my home world. Here I stand, walking across the surface of the sun, engulfed in flame. But the fire does not hurt me. The radiation, that long ago would have weakened my body now serves to strengthen it. All energy, from red suns to green rocks nourishes me. My power is as infinite as the universe itself. Even dark energy bows to my will as it pushes creation outwards. I still remember the very first thing I learned in physics class at Smallville High. Energy cannot be created or destroyed, it can only be changed from one form to another. The conservation of energy. Einstein was a smart man. I visited him once. Long ago, before he was the brilliant man reshaping reality. Just a boy, curious about the world, about the seen and unseen.
From here on the surface of the sun, I look out and see my home. Through the veil of ash, the great cities of Krypton crumbling into widening chasms. The gold volcano erupts, making the air toxic for a thousand miles in every direction. Anyone who is outside is already dead. Those who believed themselves safe in their homes huddle together. Fathers, sons. Mothers, daughters. Brothers, sisters. Believers pray to Rao for deliverance. Even some non-believers decide to pray. Perhaps they were wrong, perhaps this is Rao's wrath, come upon them for abandoning what they believed to be myth and superstition. One house in the countryside, surrounded by lava, the foundations being burned away. A mother kisses her child's forehead. She tells him to close his eyes. It will be OK. I want to go to them. To help them. I want to save them. I can't. This is history. It is happening now, but for me, it happened a long time ago. I watch their suffering to remind myself that I can still feel despair, that I can still care. In all the universe, this world is but an electron circling an atom among millions in a tiny grain of sand on a beach that stretches to infinity. Meaningless in the grand expanse of both space and time. The universe will go on, unknowing and uncaring. But I will know. I will care. I will be a witness.
Beyond the crust and the mantle, deep in the core, the energy of a trillion nuclear explosions all happening at once, energy trapped beneath molten rock. The pressure builds. A hundred volcanoes erupt on the surface. It's as if the planet itself is trying to breathe, trying desperately to ease the pressure so it may survive. It won't. It didn't. The seas boil like in a biblical cataclysm. I step through fabric of reality and emerge closer, above the planet. I could see it all from a distance but I want to be closer, I must be closer. There it is. A house on the hill. A father and mother work tirelessly. The mother looks out her window. The volcanic superstorm is approaching. Ash falls like snow, lightning illuminates the darkening sky. I see myself in her arms. A child, just a few months old. He doesn't know what awaits him. What he will accomplish. His triumphs are ahead of him, as are tragedies as the one he is in the middle of now. He is oblivious to everything but the warm embrace of his mother, the heartbroken smile from his father.
"A new home awaits you," he said. I don't remember these words, I remember nothing from that day, but I hear them now, as an observer, reaching back through time. "I ask for only one thing. Live, and live well. Whatever path you take, make it your own. Know that we love you, my little Kal-El."
The pod opens. The child is placed inside. The ash cloud surrounds the house but it is too late. The ship is launching. Lightning strikes the hull but the ship keeps rising. The mother and father watch, choking on ash. They should collapse but they don't. They stay strong and wait for the ship to break through the storm, to ascend into space. The ground shakes beneath their feet, the house falls away. Still they stand firm. They will die in moments. I turn away. I cannot watch. I have seen countless death across the eons. I have witnessed civilisations rise and fall. I have watched life become death, seen the body decay, break down and over millions of years, the very atoms of that body taking on other forms, eventually taking the form of life once again. The circle of life, death and rebirth in another form, an endless cycle that began with the Big Bang. I made myself watch every death in human history and the history of a trillion other worlds so I would not forget the fragility and preciousness of life, even when I know that matter will continue in another form. But I will not watch this death. I cannot. These are my parents. Their last act was to give me a chance at life.
So I turn away and look to the ship as it forces its way through the heavy layer of dust and rock and ash. I study the inner workings of the ship and see the engine working to propel the ship forward with enough speed to break through the atmosphere. I see myself as I was, sleeping in the little pod. A part of me wishes that my infant self was awake, that he could look through the protective shell and see himself as he will be. But he has no powers yet. No X-Ray vision. That will come in time, about twelve years from now. When he reaches the Sol System, his cells will draw upon the radiation of the yellow sun and begin their work. A hundred million years of evolution in less than two decades. The build up of energy will become painful. His body will seek a means to expel it. It will happen through his eyes. Barely noticeable at first but eventually, intense blasts of heat will become a weapon. He will learn to control it. The change will bring side-effects. His vision will become sharper, his eyes will adjust to see across the whole spectrum of light, both visible and invisible. Great distances will become the reach of his arm to his eyes and the pin of a needle will become as clear as day. He will go further, to the atomic structure of matter, seeing between atoms and beyond them. His brain will become much faster, making a billion calculations in a nanosecond to shape the image to his needs, allowing him to see through matter. His ears will attune themselves to sound waves on all frequencies and interpret the information, allowing him to hear all that there is to hear. His muscles too will strengthen. The electromagnetic field surrounding his body will amplify. He will learn to control it and use it to defy gravity. All this and more awaits him on a small planet on the outer edge of the galaxy.
As his ship prepares to activate the Phantom Generator that will cut a hole in the universe, he is unaware of what is happening behind him. The unrelieved pressure at the core has become too much. The last of the living are about to die, along with the entire planet. Perhaps they will live again in some other form. But for right now, this is the end. The cracks in the crust are visible from space now. In the briefest of moments, a whole become billions of parts as the planet explodes. It is strange to think that the nearest civilised world is eighty-four lightyears away. For the next eighty-four years, astronomers on that world will look to the sky and see Krypton, still intact, still as it was. But it is no more. The blast sends debris flying outwards in all directions. The irradiated rock, turned a sickly green, is propelled forward. It flies past me and I draw energy from the radiation. It would have killed me once. It would kill the child asleep in the spaceship if any of it penetrated the small craft. But none will. None did. As the ship enters the Phantom Zone, a significant amount of the rock follows. It will cause the child much grief in the years to come until he evolves beyond its harmful effects.
As the gateway to the other side of space closes, I am left in the vacuum, watching over my destroyed home world. This tomb is where I was born. In truth, it isn't my home. On this world, I was Kal-El, son of Jor-El and Lara Lor-Van. Kal-El died here. The child in the spacecraft has no name. He exists in the womb of all creation, awaiting rebirth. He will be found by simple people. Not scientists or astronauts like his parents on Krypton but simple farmers who value hard work and honesty. They will call him Clark. His friends will know him by that name. The world will call him something else. They will call him what they called me. They called me Superman.
I leave the remains of Krypton behind and travel to another point in space and another point in time. It is a moment for me, like stepping through a door. No cosmic treadmill, no need to break the light barrier. I exist outside the confines of time now. Every instant is but a thought away. I exist in no time and in every time. If Einstein or Hawking could see what I see, would they comprehend? Would they understand that the river of time moves not in one direction but in all directions? The past moves to the present and to the future. The future moves to the present and to the past. The present moves to the past and to the future. All at once, all entwined like the double helix of DNA. I see the beginning of creation and the end. They are one. It not yet the moment for me to go there. I know what I must do, what I will do and what I have already done. But it is not yet...time.
I am floating above a house, invisible to the world below. Inside, a girl writes in her diary. I never did ask what she was writing and I never looked. I could have looked through the pages of the closed book but I refrained. I could do so now but I won't. Her secrets are her own. She is seventeen. My first love. A pebble striking her window causes a faint crack. I was careless. It was invisible to her but to my eyes it was huge and almost unforgivable. She didn't notice. When she opened the window and looked into his eyes, my eyes, she didn't register what was happening. Her brain rationalised it instantly. He has a ladder. Of course he has a ladder. He didn't.
"So? What do you think?" he asked, trying with all his might to refrain from unleashing the goofiest of grins that would have caused her to roll her eyes.
"About what?" she asked in return, still unaware of what was before her eyes. He was a little far away to be on a ladder. It was only when he glanced down and her eyes followed that she noticed. "Holy shit!"
"Told you I could fly," the young Clark Kent replied, the goofy grin finally being released from its cage. Lana Lang had been one of the few people in Smallville to discover that he had strange abilities and now she was the first person he elected to show his latest ability to.
Lana couldn't help herself. She reached out through the open window and pushed her palm against his chest, expecting Clark to float away. Instead, he fell. "Woah, Lana wait!" he yelled as he fell towards the ground before regaining his concentration. "I'm still getting the hang of this thing." He floated upwards so that he was at eye level with her once again.
"How are you even doing that?" she asked, bewildered at what her boyfriend was doing.
"Beats me. Gravitons, electromagnetic fields, happy thoughts...who knows?"
Lana reached out again, this time grabbing a hold of his shirt. She pulled him back towards the window and kissed him. When she allowed him to pull away, Clark held on to her, pulling her through the window, into the open air. "Clark, wait, no, what are you doing? I'll fall."
"No you won't," he replied confidently, holding her in his arms and lifting her with him towards the sky. "I guess it's pretty cold up there. I don't feel it but you might. The air is thin too. So we won't go too high. I just want you to see."
"See what? Lana asked as she held on tight.
"Everything."
I watch as they fly above Smallville. In truth I was careless. All it would have taken is for one person to look up and my secret would have been revealed to the world. As they fly west towards the farm to tell my parents of this latest power, I remember what I was thinking. I've got the love of my life in my arms. We'll be together forever. I was wrong on both counts. A few months shy of seventeen, my love for Lana Lang was intense and pure but it was like a matchstick. When struck, the light is intense but as the flame burns, it's destiny is to ultimately go out. It wasn't a bitter end. Our friendship would continue until the day she died. I think of her still. My first love. But not my true love.
He's twenty-six years old. He's spent the last three years travelling the world, starting as a blogger, documenting his experiences, reporting the kind of news that the media just doesn't want to report. Hunger strikes in China that went unnoticed in Beijing and the rest of the world. The Norwegian whaling crisis that even Greenpeace didn't pay any attention to. The student protests in Paris that became a war zone for two days. That one got one paragraph in The Times. "The French are always protesting. That's their thing," the editor told him when he asked why his detailed report was cut to a few short lines on a random page without a headline. "You gotta give the reader something they want to read."
Then came the Bialyan civil war. He had been one of the few western journalists who had made it into the country. What he found wasn't war, it was slaughter. But even as two factions tore each other apart and displaced hundreds of thousands of people in the process, the world didn't seem to care. Nobody was interested in an internal dispute, no matter how bloody it was, no matter how many warcrimes were committed. Some believed that the CIA had orchestrated the war in an attempt to make negotiations for the rich oil reserves more favourable but both sides had no love for the West and the claims were quickly dismissed. For three months, Clark followed the bloodshed. Even as a rare western journalist in the country with unprecedented access to the conflict, no news organisation was interested. So he resigned himself to writing about the conflict in his blog. When his blog became popular with people in the region and around the world, a few outlets finally decided to run his stories but by then the war was winding down and whatever public interest there had been was fading fast.
When Clark crossed the border into Kahndaq, to look into the refugee camps set up during the civil war, all interest in the region was dead. Then the armed gangs started attacking. Many believed that the gangs had crossed the border from Bialya but when Clark discovered that they were in fact troops from the Kahndaqi army working under sanction from President Asim Muhunnad, trained and financed by the United States, the world began to listen. It was a failing newspaper out of Metropolis that bit first. The Kahndaqi refugee crisis increased their readership, allowing them to stave off a buyout from GBS, a media conglomerate that already owned most of Metropolis' media outlets in both print and broadcasting. The increase in sales didn't last long but it did prompt the editor, Perry White, to offer Clark a job once he returned stateside.
Twenty-six years old, his first real job outside the farm. His very first day. He saw her through the blinds that separated the glass office of the editor from the bullpen. She was arguing with her boss and thanks to his enhanced hearing, he could hear what the argument was about. It was about him.
"I don't care what he did in Kahndaq, Chief. He's still a rookie. He doesn't know the city like I do," she argued, her palms pressed hard against the desk.
"That's why I want you to show him the ropes. Look, he's good. Maybe as good as you and we need all the help we can get."
"If you make me do this, then I'll quit," she threatened, hoping that Perry wouldn't take her up on it.
"You won't quit. Nobody else will hire you. Not after you accused the saviour of this city of secretly funding the biggest crime wave the city has ever seen."
"Lex Luthor is dirty, Chief. Intergang are in his pocket. He gets them to cause havoc across the city and then he swoops in with redevelopment deals and advanced weaponry for the cops to fight the threat he created, making him the hero. He didn't just buy the Mayor's Office or the police, he bought the whole damn city. Hell, your tax dollars probably go into his pocket without you even knowing it."
"I believe you, Lois. I do. The trouble is, nobody else does."
"Well I can't prove it if I'm too busy chaperoning a two-bit hick..." she stopped as the door opened and Clark entered. After a quick glance at his cheap suit and horn-rimmed glasses, she decided he wasn't worth holding her tongue for. "Like I said, a two-bit hick from Smalltown USA, no offence."
Before Perry could respond, Clark stepped in. While he wanted to remain pretty low-key in Metropolis, he wasn't interested in being a pushover for the sake of appearances. "No offence taken, Ms...Lane, right? It's Smallville, by the way. Smallville, Kansas. As for the two-bit hick comment, us country folk may not be as stylish or as slick as you clearly are, but if you think I'm some backwards yokel from the ass-end of nowhere in awe of the big city, then you're quite wrong. Now if you think I'll get in the way of you going after this Luthor fellow, that's fine, I'll try not to step on your toes, but I'm not some naive boy fresh out of college with dreams of Pulitzer Prizes. I've already been all over the world, to some of the most dangerous places on the planet."
"Look...Kent, right? My dad's a general. I grew up on army bases so don't think..."
"Oh that's great," interrupted Clark. "Maybe we can share stories. Tell me, have you ever tried to guide orphan children through a firefight or watched an IED destroy the truck in front of yours, killing people you'd grown to care about? Was there much action on those army bases? Or were you safe behind high walls? If you want to judge me Ms. Lane, judge me on my record, not any pre-conceived notions you might have. And Mr. White, if Ms. Lane would prefer to work alone, then I think it's best you put me on something else."
Perry hesitated for a moment and Lois found herself speechless for the first time in her life. "Uh, I thought you'd be more mild-mannered, Mr. Kent." Perry finally commented.
"I really don't like to cause a fuss, Mr. White," Clark replied as he pushed his glasses back up his nose. "But I can swing with the best of them when I have to."
"Not bad, Smallville," said Lois as she took a second look at the man she had previously dismissed. "It doesn't mean I like you, but you have my respect."
"Respect is earned," Clark answered. "I'm glad to have earned yours. So what's my assignment?"
Perry looked down at his desk. He had intended to place Clark with Lois, hoping that the new guy would reel Lois in when she went off on one of her tangents, but having them at each other's throats wouldn't do much good either. "Uh..."
"How about the Metropolis miracles?" Lois offered.
"The what?" asked Clark.
"Lois, there's nothing in that," Perry complained. "Cat did that story last week and nothing came of it."
"Maybe Smallville can dig something up."
"What are you both talking about?" Clark asked again, bemused.
"Yeesh, where have you been?" Lois asked before continuing without waiting for an answer. "The Metropolis miracles. Strange events over the past few weeks. A baby falls from a twelfth story window and is found on the ground without a scratch on him. A helicopter loses all power but instead of plummeting to the ground, it lands safely on the helipad. An automatic rifle is fired during a convenience store robbery, every single bullet ends up in a pile on the ground as if someone had caught them and then left them there. There have been stories like this for over a month. The whole thing is probably a prank but hey, if you want to get to know the city, there's no better way than to meet the weirdos who believe in this stuff."
As Clark formulated a response, he thought what I find myself thinking now. I don't like this woman. She's arrogant, stubborn, dismissive, too snarky for her own good...what could he ever see in her? What did I see in her? Was it that beneath the tough exterior, she was loyal to those she cared about? Was it her passion for her work? Her unquenchable thirst for the truth, whatever the cost? Was it all of the above and more? Of course I was the Metropolis Miracle. Before my public debut in front of the whole world, I worked quick and quiet. When Lois found herself in the thick of the action as part of my first major public rescue effort, she of course stole my story. It was probably the right thing. I didn't feel comfortable writing about myself. We eventually did start working together on the Luthor story and many more stories after that. By the time we had our first date, two years had passed. It had been difficult to forge a relationship. Her infatuation with Superman had held her back. If she had known then what she would later discover, a relationship with Clark Kent may have been as impossible as a relationship with Superman.
I'm standing in Metropolis. A moment ago, I was at the end of the universe, watching. Waiting. Another moment to waste visiting the past. Or is it the future? Perhaps both. The city is in ruins. Massive floating warships hover overhead. A hundred thousand parademons patrol the city. They occasionally look up to the biggest ship, hoping to catch sight of their master, Darkseid. Every major city around the world is under his control. Most of the world leaders are dead. Metahumans, hero and villain alike, have been driven underground. Some have become a part of the human resistance, fighting back against the alien menace. Others are hiding, covering their ears and closing their eyes, hoping the bad times will just go away. I'm standing on the spot where I died. The creature known as Doomsday challenged me six months ago and we beat each other to death. Doomsday can't die, of course. Apparently I can. At least in this time period, at least for a while.
I imagine things playing out differently in other universes. Perhaps previous universes or parallel universes. Perhaps I don't die, perhaps I just sleep. Perhaps impostors rise to take my place until my return. In this universe, my death is quickly followed by a full-scale invasion by the forces of Apokolips. The other heroes, scattered and working individually, put up brave but losing fights. On the hidden island of Themyscira, the gods of Olympus descend to fight the alien horde. They are betrayed by Hades. Zeus is killed. Darkseid is the one true god now. Diana, princess of Themyscira is captured and sent to Apokolips to be reconditioned as a Fury. That is where we meet, alongside another alien, a Martian refugee. The Green Lantern, Hal Jordan fights bravely. Oa refuses to help, citing dangers elsewhere in the universe that have drawn their attention. His ring loses power, his lantern beyond his grasp. So he picks up a gun and joins the resistance. It's there that he meets John Stewart, a retired marine who now leads the resistance cell in Coast City. Stewart has a greater destiny, one not dissimilar to Hal's. His bravery will be shown. Deep beneath the waves, King Orin of the lost Atlantis debates with his council. They remain hidden for now but it is only a matter of time before Darkseid comes for them. Should they wait and fortify their position? Or help the surface world? Barry Allen remains in costume. He's too quick to be caught. He continues to fight the good fight. Central City is almost clear of parademons. Still, he's fighting alone. In Gotham, the caped crusader known as Batman is powerless. He can only watch as the city he fought so hard to save is torn apart. Killer clowns and mob bosses are easy compared to this.
In this world, evil has won. Darkseid rules the world. My dead body lays entombed in the centre of Metropolis, a reminder, not of hope, but of despair. An example to all that none can stand against Darkseid...except perhaps his own son. Orion, forbidden by treaty to wage war, resolves to give the Earth a fighting chance. It is he who takes my body to HighFather of New Genesis and begs for me to be restored to life. It is he who sends me to Apokolips to rescue the Martian and the Amazon. He cannot fight, but I can. We can. First, I go to the Batman. He knows who I am, who we all are. He will help me find the others. His skills allow him to retrieve Jordan's lost lantern battery, his strategies help plan the counter attack. We will all unite for justice.
It's the eve of battle. It's been six months since Superman died and Clark Kent disappeared. Lois stands on the roof of the Daily Planet, looking out at a decimated city ruled by beasts from another world. She hears his voice on the wind.
"Lois..."
She turns and sees her beloved. Trench-coat, glasses, the works. "Clark? Clark, you're alive." She rushes to him, embraces him. I remember this moment. Her questions came thick and fast. Where was I? What took me so long to get back? Never the question I thought she would ask. Am I Superman? Did she know? Maybe. Perhaps she was waiting for me to tell her. Or perhaps she simply couldn't see beyond Clark Kent.
It's the thirty-fourth century of the common era. A tourist at the Superman museum asks a question. "If Lois Lane was so smart, how come she couldn't see past the glasses?"
The tour guide explains the current theories. First, that the glasses had some hypnotic quality to them. Second that Superman vibrated his head just enough to change his features in the eyes of others. The third theory is that she knew but didn't let on. What's the truth? The truth is that I have encountered three people with incredible investigative minds in my lifetime. The first is Batman. The second is The Question. The third is Lois Lane. She is almost the living embodiment of the Lasso Of Truth. The truth is, there was no deception. No lie. I was Superman. I was Clark Kent. I did not pretend to be either of them. I was truly both. I believe that Lois didn't see beyond the glasses because there was no reason to.
At thirty years old, Clark Kent stood on that rooftop, embracing the woman he loved as the city burned around them. He had died. If there was something after death, he didn't remember it. But now he was back and was about to engage in what could be described as a suicide mission. Seven companions and a world of heroes and villains would unite or fall. But first, he had to tell her.
"Lois, there are things I can't give you. My complete, undivided attention. I can't grow old with you. I can't give you children. There's a reason I can't give you these things. I'm not like other people. You look at me and you see Clark Kent, a farm boy from a nowhere town in Kansas with nice parents and a cornfield in my backyard. That's who I am. I am Clark Kent, farmer's son. Clark Kent, journalist. Clark Kent, madly in love with the most stubborn woman on the planet. What you see is real and I need you to know that. I need you to believe in your heart that the man you see in front of you is real. Not a facade, not a lie."
"Clark, what are you talking about? In case you haven't noticed, the world has gone to hell."
"I know it has and it's my fault. Where did I go for six months? You must have asked yourself that question. I can only imagine the agony you felt, not knowing where I was, if I was even alive. I wish I could say I felt the same pain but for me, the last time I saw you was a few days ago. But you didn't see me. You saw someone else. But that someone was me. He died. I died. I don't remember the last six months because I didn't exist. I was gone. You watched me die and you didn't even know it was me."
As I watch Clark Kent tell his story, I can see the wheels turning in Lois' brain. I can see her begin to comprehend what he's saying. Somewhere, buried deep in her unconscious mind, a truth begins to reveal itself. When Clark removes his glasses, she doesn't see the difference. When he unbuttons his shirt and reveals the large red S underneath, her mind seems to shut down and reboot itself.
"Clark, what are you...oh god."
"Four years ago we stood on this rooftop and I told you a story. I told you a story of a doomed world, of a lone survivor who came to Earth and discovered he had amazing powers that he used to help people. What I didn't tell you is that story began three decades ago. That the lone survivor was just a few months old when he came to Earth. That he was found and raised by a farmer and his wife on a farm outside a small town in Kansas. You see Lois, I am Clark Kent. That's who I am. But I'm also someone else. I'm also Superman."
Lois found herself taking a step back. I see it playing out before me just as it did when I was Clark, standing on that rooftop revealing his identity to the woman he loved. I remember wondering if that step away from me was out of fear or hatred. Did she feel betrayal?
"It was you. I saw you...I saw you die. I saw you fight that monster. You tried to say something to me with your last breath...what was it?"
It's six months ago. The creature Doomsday lies in the crater, apparently dead. Not far from him, my body is broken, my lungs are filling with air for the last time as Lois cradles me. I try to tell her I love her, that I'm Clark Kent, but there's not enough time. So I tell her I'm sorry. But the words never escape my lips. My life ends.
"I'm sorry," Clark said as he let his shirt and jacket fall away before rising up out of the rest of his clothes, revealing his iconic Superman suit. "That's what I tried to say. It's what I have to say now. I'm alive. I shouldn't be but I am. I'm alive because the world is going to end today if I don't stop it. Darkseid has realised he can't break the human spirit. He can't make you willing devotees to him and his cause. It's not enough for him to rule you, he needs to you want him to. He knows that won't happen now so he'll destroy everything. I'm sorry Lois. I'm sorry that I didn't tell you sooner, sorry that I'm telling you now, knowing that I may never see you again. But I had to. I got a second chance and even if that chance lasts a day, I had to take it. I've seen and done so many wondrous things but if there's one thing I'm sure about, it's you. If we survive today, I can't give you everything you deserve. As Clark Kent, I'll love you forever, I'll cherish you and be yours. But the world needs Superman. He has to belong to the world. I don't age the way you do. I don't know when I'll die, if ever. You'll grow old and I'll stay by your side. In the centuries to come, there will only be you. When the last star goes out, there will only be you. The time we have together may be but a moment in my lifetime but for me that moment will be eternal. Twenty, maybe thirty years from now, you may resent me for not going grey, for looking as I do now, not ageing with you. And in the time we have, we won't have children. My heart is human. But my DNA...these are the things I can't give you."
Lois took it all in. As her mind tried to adjust to seeing both Clark and Superman as one person, she listened to every word, processed everything he had to say. Her response would change their lives forever, one way or another. "Ask."
"Ask...? Ask what?" the man who was both Clark and Superman responded, bewildered.
"It's the end of the world Super...Clark. You said it yourself. We may all be dead tomorrow. I didn't know you could be so melodramatic though. You watch too many movies, Clark. Disaster situation, no hope of survival, so the hero, thinking he's going to die anyway, confesses his love or pledges himself to the girl. So ask the damn question, Clark."
"God you're stubborn."
"Ask it!"
"Fine. Lois Lane, will you marry me?"
"One, how could you wait so long to tell me? Look, I get the whole thing about protecting people you care about but in case you haven't noticed, I'm pretty good at getting into trouble regardless of my relationship status. Two. Share you with the world? Clark, you know how long I was infatuated with Superman...or you...whatever. But did I settle for Clark Kent? No. I fell in love with Clark Kent. Superman was a schoolgirl crush and I always knew nothing could ever happen there and even if it could, Superman couldn't be seen to have someone special in his life above everyone else. The world can have Superman. You're always disappearing as it is...I guess I know why. Superman belongs to the world, Clark Kent belongs to me. I can live with that. You go save the world as often as you like, just make sure it's me you're coming home to. Three, not growing old together? Yeah, OK. That sucks. But at least I'll have a boy-toy when I'm 80, right?"
"Lois..."
"Clark, it doesn't matter how old or young you look, as long as when you look into my eyes when I'm forty or a hundred, you still love me. I wouldn't resent you for not growing old. I'd resent you if you stayed with me out of pity or duty. But if you stay with me out of love, I'll cherish every single moment. Four, I've met your parents. They adopted you...OK...from an alien spacecraft, but still, they didn't have children of their own but your Mom loves you just as much as she would if she'd given birth to you. STAR Labs is doing some crazy things these days so who knows what might happen. But if we decide to have kids and we do have to adopt, you turned out alright. The way I see it, you're all out of excuses. I know you expected me to be mad at you but how can I be? You're..."
"Superman?"
"Sure. But more importantly, you're Clark. And you're alive."
"So is that a yes then?"
"I want you to promise me something."
"Anything."
"Promise me that this isn't an end-of-the-world empty gesture. Promise me you're going to save the world and we're going to go dress shopping and pick out flowers and...uh...you know what, let's elope instead. I can't stand weddings. Promise me, Clark. Promise me this is for real."
"I promise."
"Good...then ask me again after you've saved the world," she said with a smirk.
Fourteen hours pass. A third world war, fought not between nations but between two civilisations. In Metropolis, Superman's return inspires the people to rise up. His battle with Darkseid stretches across the planet. His comrades each get their own punches in, working as a team to save the world. When the dust settles, the tyrant who calls himself a god is banished back to the hell he called home. A new alliance of heroes is forged in the fire. The Justice League. It will exist for eight centuries and be succeeded by a legion of superheroes. The world will change.
Five billion years from my wedding day. I have evolved. She hovers beside me. My love. She did not grow old. Her life was shortened but she is here now, restored by my hand. We watch as the Earth is consumed by the expanding sun. Human being had left that world long ago. We witness the end of my second home world and we move on. She will be with me for a time. A thousand years. Then she will fade again. If there is something beyond this universe, she will wait there. She will wait for me. I will continue on. I have seen the universe, travelled to it's edge. Watched as dark energy expands creation faster than the speed of light into infinity, towards the inevitable.
One hundred trillion years of expansion. Galaxies are stretched and broken apart. Solar systems, suns and planets. The atomic structure of all matter forced apart. There are no stars, no planets, no galaxies. No life exists. Only a void. The universe is dead. It will exist forever but life will no longer flourish. This is my present. This is now. I have travelled through time, reliving memories, witnessing events from before my lifetime, cherished fleeting moments I failed to appreciate when they happened. All of time and space are at my fingertips. Yet here, at the end of everything, I am alone. I save people. That's what I do. That's what I've always done. Even as I evolved beyond Clark, beyond Superman, I continued the never-ending battle for truth and justice. But the never-ending battle had an end. One I could not stop. Life simply faded away into non-existence. For a time, I despaired. Alone in the universe, I tried to hide in the past, I tried to relive those moments that defined me. But I was but an observer, a shadow of history. I cannot escape my fate. I save people.
All energy serves me. All energy powers my existence. Even that which pushes the universe apart. My eyes are closed. I feel it coursing through me. An entire universe of dark energy flowing through me. All other energy had already been absorbed into my being. Energy cannot be created or destroyed. Dark energy fills my cells, my very soul. Stripped from the universe. Without it, creation begins to fall backwards and contract. All of creation returns to a single point, following the trail of dark energy, journeying to the source of the withdrawal, to me. The universe collapses around me, but it will not kill me. That is not my purpose. My purpose is what it always was. To save lives, perhaps to save life itself.
The entire universe collapses to a single point. I break through, I see beyond the confines of the shrinking universe to the multiverse, to the same action occurring in an infinite number of universes and in each one, another version of me, gathering dark energy. This is my purpose.
The Green Lanterns had a legend. It was said that Krona, his curiosity absolute, sought to witness the beginning of creation. So he travelled back in time, through the prison of our reality to the moment of creation. What he saw confounded him. A singularity as he expected but around it, a hand. A hand of creation. He could not understand. But I do. The hand of creation. My hand. The beginning of the universe and the end of the universe. They are one. This is my purpose, my responsibility. The singularity exists in the palm of my hand. All I need do is squeeze and transfer all the energy of the universe into this sphere of possibilities. When I release, it will all begin again. Each cycle will be different. Each version of me creating each version of the universe will determine the shape of creation. Will the universe play out exactly as before? Or will it change? Will different choices be made to shape a new reality? This version of me will never know. The version of me who is yet to exist in the universe I hold in my hand will discover his own path. Perhaps at the end of his universe, he will return here and ask the same questions.
I squeeze. All the energy of my universe becomes a part of the singularity. As I release my grip, I witness the Big Bang. An explosion of energy stretches into the void. I ride the wave of creation for a moment before being overtaken as it expands outwards, faster than the speed of light. My final purpose, to restart the universe. I feel myself fading from existence. My final thoughts are of her and of the version of me who is yet to be. His life will be filled with wonders, just as mine was. As I slip away into nothingness, I smile. The first headline she ever wrote about me. Saved by a Superman. I wonder if I will be the same man this time around. What memories will I have when I return here to the border between beginning an ending?
I see her now. Waiting. Is she real? A delusion created by my dying mind? It doesn't matter. As the universe expands into existence around us, we are together. The future and the past are no longer for us. We fade. We will meet again for the first time in a universe of new possibilities.