De Rerum Natura
Conner Kent woke up with the dawn. He smiled as he felt the sun shining on him and saw his girlfriend Cassandra lying next to him, sound asleep and snoring softly. He got up slowly, careful not to wake her, and quickly got dressed.
It would be criminal not to enjoy a morning this nice, after all.
Conner started a leisurely jog away from Titan's Tower, letting his mind wander as the trees passed by around him. It felt good to be able to relax for once, after the insanity that his life had been during and after the crisis that had wound up killing him, and almost annihilating all of reality.
It never stopped feeling weird to think about that, no matter how many times it crossed Conner's mind.
"Hey, Superboy," a voice cut into Conner's thoughts, one that he recognized so easily and so viscerally that it froze him in his tracks. "We need to talk."
It was the voice of Superboy-Prime.
Conner didn't even hesitate, turning around and launching a punch with all of his strength and speed. But his target stopped the attack with a single outstretched hand, catching Conner's fist with an ease that seemed almost distracted.
"Can we not turn this into a fight?" Prime asked, his eyes surprisingly empty of any hatred or anger. He just looked tired, and oddly drained. "I said I just wanted to talk."
"And why," Conner asked through grit teeth, "should I believe a single damn thing you have to say?"
"Because if I was gonna attack you, I'd have just done it. I'm not stupid. That's your job."
"No, you're just a psycho."
"Ouch," Prime said dryly, glaring at Conner. "Did you spend all day thinking that one up? Real clever."
Conner tried throwing another punch, but Prime blocked it effortlessly.
"We can do this all day," Prime said flatly, "or we can talk, and then you'll never see me again. Don't be an idiot, Superboy."
Conner backed off, tense for a few moments, until it became clear that his arch-nemesis wasn't about to try and smash his head in.
"How'd you get out of the Source Wall?" he asked, and Prime shrugged.
"I keep telling you guys that no prison is good enough to hold me," he answered. "Your fault for not listening."
Conner fought against his instinct to fight, uneasily willing his muscles to relax.
"Okay," he said at last. "Start talking."
Prime nodded.
"I just need to know," he said, "how all of you haven't gone completely crazy by now. What's the secret?"
Conner's eyes clouded over in confusion—that certainly wasn't what he'd been expecting.
"What d'you mean?"
"It took me a few months to break out of the Source Wall," Prime explained. "Had a lot of time to think. Too much time, really. It's hard to deal with the truth that this whole universe is a complete joke."
Conner frowned.
"Is this the point where you start whining about how your girlfriend doesn't love you anymore?" he asked, spiteful. "If it is, feel free to spoil the ending for me and get out of here."
Prime smiled at the provocation, but it was a hollow, bitter expression. Still no anger, still no hate, and Conner felt himself becoming more and more puzzled.
"You're hilarious," Prime said cuttingly, "but no. What I mean is, you don't just stare gods in the face and come back from it the same. I've seen the truth, Superboy. The real truth of this whole screwed up world."
"Which is?"
"Nothing has any meaning," Prime answered, his eyes coming to life for the first time in the conversation as his voice rose slightly. "Nothing! Our gods—our writers," he clarified, spitting the word out with pure hatred, "don't care about us at all. They sell our lives and deaths like they mean nothing!
"Think about it, Superboy," Prime continued, his voice becoming pleading and almost desperate. "How many times have superheroes died and come back from the grave? How many times have supervillains been thrown in jail, broken out and thrown back in? I could kill you right now, and you'd just come back to life in a month. There's no point to anything any of us do. The balance is always the same. Always."
"So you're saying we don't even have free will?" Conner shot back, skeptical. "Bullshit. I chose to do everything I did fighting you during the crisis. That was me, all the way."
"No, you stupid idiot!" Prime shouted, causing Conner to tense up again on reflex. "It wasn't! They chose to let you die! They chose to kill you! They could have had you survive, easily. But what good is a happy ending, if you can have a heroic sacrifice instead? They sold you out, literally," Prime finished, glaring at Conner. "Doesn't that bother you, even a little?"
"No," Conner said resolutely. "Because I don't believe you."
"Then you're an even bigger moron than I thought you were," Prime said tiredly, "and I didn't even know that was possible. I'm wasting my time with you, Superboy."
He started to walk away, but a word brought him to a halt.
"Wait."
Prime turned back around, looking at Conner in annoyance.
"What?"
"If you're so sure none of our actions mean anything," Conner said, "then why did you even come here to talk to me?"
"Like I told you, I wanted to know how you all stayed sane. Looks like the answer was just 'Being an ignorant idiot' all along." Prime shook his head. "But I can't do that. Not after what I've seen."
Conner paused, thinking over Prime's words. Even though he sounded completely insane, Conner figured he might as well try to reason with Prime using his own bizarre logic. He had kept up his word about not attacking him, if nothing else.
"Even if you are right," he said, "and we're not in control of our own destinies, that doesn't bother me. I'm not living my life just for myself, Prime."
"You're not listening to me," Prime replied. "You're not living a life at all!"
"I wasn't done," Conner continued, unyielding. "What I do, the actions I take each and every day, I'm not living just to do what I want to do. My friends matter, my teammates matter, and my family matters. I put them first.
"As long as what I do keeps them safe, I don't care if someone is pulling my strings or not. For all I know, there's something else that controls what those 'writers' you talk about do. That's a road that doesn't end, Prime, and I have better things to do than navel-gaze until I go crazy."
Prime gazed dumbfounded at Conner, not sure what to say for several moments.
"I just gave you proof that your whole existence is a joke," he said quietly, "and you don't even care?"
Conner shrugged.
"I just choose to care about other things more," he answered. "I know the world doesn't revolve around me."
Conner turned around, beginning to walk back to the Tower. As he left, he called out in parting over his shoulder.
"Think about that for a couple more months, and see where it takes you."
Prime didn't reply, or follow him. Conner finally let himself relax once he was back in his room. He laid back down next to Cassandra, who shifted in her sleep and pulled herself next to him with a contented sigh.
Conner smiled as he drifted off to sleep again. Fate or no fate, free will or none at all, moments like this one made all of that philosophy feel secondary.
Hopefully, one day, Prime would understand that, too.
…
…
A/N: So, this one-shot started out as an opinion I was going to write on what Superboy Prime means as a commentary on comics and the people who write them, but that was a lot more boring than just making it into a one-shot. So here we are! I hope it was enjoyable, and not too preachy. Prime as a character has always been super interesting to me, though, so I couldn't not write about the unique quandary he represents.
As a side note, the title of this one-shot is a Latin phrase meaning "On the Nature of Things", which is the title of a work of natural philosophy by the Ancient Roman Lucretius. It attempts to explain Epicurean physics and metaphysics, along with discussing the gods, the soul, and other things. Cool stuff.