Chloe wasn't sure how it had happened. One minute she was walking down a busy street in Metropolis and, well, the next she still found herself walking down a busy street in Metropolis but in a different era. Gone was present day of 2007 and here was…1948; it had taken her a moment to locate a paper.

This couldn't be happening. There was no rational explanation for this. She tried retracing her steps, but she wasn't taken back to her own time. She didn't know how she had gotten here, and she didn't know how to leave. For now, she was going to pretend this was a dream and ignore the fact that she'd pinched herself, and it had hurt. She would walk to the Daily Planet, as had been her destination before she had been transported.

It was the time period, where despite the fact color had always existed in real life, you had somehow pictured it in black and white. She now had definite proof that 1948 was in living color. She looked at the people around her. Every man and woman seemed to have a hat on like it was illegal to be outside without one. She had somehow acquired one herself, and it went without saying that all the women had dresses on.

She quickened her pace to the Planet. Hopefully, it existed in this year. It had to. It was an old paper, but what if it was some strange world where it didn't exist? That newspaper was her anchor and her life. It would be the only familiar thing. Her parents weren't even born yet. She could probably track down her grandparents, but what good would that do?

A huge sigh of relief escaped her lips as the Daily Planet loomed into sight. It didn't seem to be as big as the current one and the architecture was different, but it was the Daily Planet all the same. She rushed inside. She passed a deserted receptionist desk and a room full of reporters and their desks. Then she saw the editor's door.

It said Perry White on it. That was a strange coincidence. She and Clark had met a reporter in Smallville by that name. His life had been ruled by alcohol, but it seemed like he had gotten back on track; it couldn't be the same one.

She knocked and a voice growled, "Come in."

A middle-aged man with snow white hair and a mustache sat at the desk, holding a cigar in his hand. Although he didn't look quite the same, he somehow reminded her of the Perry she knew.

"Yeah, what do you want?"

"Um, I'd like a job as a reporter if I don't already have one."

"I'm not hiring reporters right now, especially girl reporters. The cooking and gossip sections are filled."

Chloe's mouth hung open for a second. She had never been openly discriminated against like this. Then she remembered the times. Not too many women were a part of the work force yet, and if they were, they were usually in traditional women's jobs like nursing or teaching. "Are you sure you don't have room for an investigative reporter? I'm good, and I've had experience."

"I already have a girl investigative reporter. She's a handful as it is. If she wasn't so darn good, I'd fire her. A pretty, young woman like you should find a husband and raise some kids."

"I'm not ready to settle down, and in the mean time, I need money to pay the rent and put food on the table."

He seemed to consider her words. "I admire your spirit, young lady. You don't give up easily. How about a job as a receptionist?"

"If I have spirit, why can't I report?"

"It takes more than spirit for a girl to be a reporter. You have to be aggressive and as tough as they come, male or female. You have spirit, but I don't see the rest. I can tell you're a nice girl though, and I'm offering you a job as a receptionist. Take it or leave it."

"I'll take it." Chloe was disappointed, but it wasn't like she planned to be stuck here forever.

The phone rang. She stayed to listen out of curiosity.

"What?" Perry yelled after listening to somebody talk. "You're crazy…Then you're both crazy!" He listened some more. "Are you telling me you were going to be in a train wreck that didn't happen? That the train rail mysteriously straightened itself out? What kind of story is that? No, I'll tell you what kind of story that is. It's crazy. Now cover that mine disaster like you're supposed to." He hung up the phone. "What are you waiting for?" He asked Chloe. "You said you'd take the job now go to the receptionist desk!"

"Yes, sir."

"And don't put any calls through to my desk!"

Chloe surveyed her desk. It looked like a lot of answering phones, which meant figuring out to operate the antique thing. There was also a typewriter. That's when the realization hit her that there were no computers. She couldn't remember ever getting a story without one. Maybe it was just as well that she hadn't gotten a job as a reporter. She needed to learn to be less dependent on a machine, handy though they were. She'd have to learn, depending how long she was stuck in 1948.

She saw the light on the board flashing and wondered how long there'd been no one to answer the calls. She sat down and plugged in the cord where the light was flashing, put on the headset, picked up the device to talk into, and said, "Hello, Daily Planet." She felt a moment of triumph. She had operated the ancient technology like she belonged to this time. "Oh, I'm sorry. You can't talk to Mr. White right now…Uh-uh. You're welcome." She wrote down the missed call just in case he wanted to know later on.

"Good morning," said a male voice behind her.

It couldn't be. It sounded familiar and yet different. She spun around. It looked like it could be him if this was an alternate world. He quaintly tipped his hat. It was an old-fashioned gesture but cute. "What can I do for you?" she asked.

"Who do I see about a job?"

"That would be Mr. White, only he can't see you right now," and she tried to finish writing her note.

"Why not?"

Chloe felt annoyed, even if he strongly resembled her best friend, Clark Kent. Here was a man who thought he could waltz in and take the job she so desperately wanted. "On account that he's gone crazy over a train wreck that never happened."

He smiled like it amused him and he knew something about it. If he was Clark Kent, and that was impossible, he may very well have. "Um, I think I'll take a chance and barge in anyway. You needn't bother to announce me." He picked up the suitcases he had brought with him. Chloe thought it was stupid to bring suitcases into an interview. He should have found a place to stay first or left them in a taxi or something. He started for Perry White's office.

"Hey!" she shouted. "You! Whatever your name is!"

He was ignoring her and she was fuming. Men of this time were so arrogant. He went into the office, and she followed to listen at the door.

Perry was yelling at some reporters about writing the train incident and telling them to write it as mass hysteria. She hid against the wall as the 3 reporters left and among them, Chloe bitterly noted, was a woman. She watched the journalist go to her desk and noticed her title was not an investigative reporter. Feeling a little better, she directed her attention back to what was going on behind the now closed door.

"What do you want?" Perry barked suddenly.

Apparently he hadn't immediately noticed the man's presence.

"A job."

"Any special kind or would mine do?" he asked sarcastically.

Chloe smiled. It wasn't going well for him.

"I'd like to be a reporter."

"So would a lot of people," Chloe muttered under her breath.

"I haven't had any experience writing, but—"

'Was that guy serious?' Chloe thought.

"That should help," Perry said.

Chloe smiled again.

"I have plenty of qualifications that might be valuable," he said like he was doing Perry a favor.

The phone rang, and Perry answered it. "I told you I wasn't to be disturbed under—oh, it's you, Lois."

'Of course, it was Lois,' Chloe thought. 'I'm not at my desk to transfer any calls. Anybody who calls has to know his number. Wait a minute, Lois?'

"Get it anyhow. Let me talk to Jimmy Olsen."

This was just too freaky and coincidental. It had to be her boyfriend, who worked as a copyboy. He must not be a copyboy in this time. She couldn't believe any of this. Perry started ranting, and Jimmy must not have been able to get a word in edgewise.

As soon as Perry hung up the phone, the man who had to have been Clark said, "I can do the mine story. They won't keep me out."

If it was the Lois she knew, they wouldn't keep Lois out either.

"How'd you know about the mine? I didn't mention it."

"My hearing is a little better than average."

It was Clark Kent without a doubt. A little better than average her foot. Try a lot better than average.

"How about giving me a chance?"

"If you can get inside that mine and bring the story back, the job is yours."

Chloe couldn't believe how unfair that was. She hoped he didn't get it, Clark or not.

"You can meet Lois Lane and Jimmy Olsen there. They'll be the ones standing outside."

Lois Lane cinched it. She was in some kind of parallel universe. There was some silence, and she scrambled back to her desk. She watched Clark leave, but she fully intended on following. She wasn't going to miss a story just because she was a receptionist.