Clark would rather have swallowd wet cement than admit it, but he enjoyed the assignments that Lionel emailed him each day. Deciding what to do in various business scenarios, from acquisitions to product line development to predicting a competitor's moves, it was an exciting game. He'd gotten quite adept at predicting the answers that Lionel expected, which for him was the real object of the game. Some of them, he suspected, were scenarios from Lionel's own past business dealings rather than hypothetical situations, and guessing which was fun, too.
Anything that made his life seem more real was good. Always analyzing hypothetical business situations, testing himself in the labs, he wondered when real things would begin. Lionel had him reading philosophy, especially Nietzsche, and was telling him that he was the ubermensch, the pinnacle, but it felt about as real as that whole thing about people crouching in a cave and just seeing shadows of things. He wasn't quite sure that he believed it but it was weird in a good way to think about. Because if everything that people see are shadows, then there are real things making those shadows.
He emailed back his answers and then went back to the book on Roman history that Lionel had told him to read. Again, he'd rather have swallowed wet cement than admit it, but it was pretty interesting. When he talked about history, Lionel could make it seem as though it had happened in front of him. He talked about the emperors as though he'd known them, and when Clark had said so, he laughed.
"I do." He laughed more at Clark's expression. "Clark, these are the people you encounter each day. They make the same decisions, the same mistakes. I'm teaching you how to strip all these problems to the essentials, whether the protagonists are wearing togas, doublets and hose, or business suits. It's just like magic, son. Watch what the magician is doing, not what he wants you to think he's doing, and whatever happens, don't look where he's pointing."
Clark had gotten to Spartacus' slave revolt and was thinking about what went wrong; why the slaves were able to rebel and why they did, and why they lost. The one book didn't have enough on Spartacus himself so he went to the library to see if there was more. He felt uneasy when he read about Spartacus' death, his being crucified. He wished that he hadn't gone that far with Lex, even if Lex was being all righteous and whiny about it. *Lex has this Messiah complex, no wonder he'd say that he was crucified.*
"Oh, crap," he muttered. Lex was right after all. One of those footnotes that covers most of the page described the process in detail. "Well, how was I supposed to know?"
"What's that?" *Shit, he was in here!* Lex came from around the corner, a finger holding his place in some book about water testing.
"Nothing." After a moment, a habit engrained by Alexia Luthor that Lionel hadn't yet unrooted made him uncomfortable. "Well, actually..."
"Yes?" Lex sounded absent, so now would be a good time to get it over with."
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to nearly kill you...you were right, I could have." He waved the book in his brother's direction.
Lex noticed the title. *Hmmm, looks like he went to the source.* He paused, not certain what to say.
"I didn't mean to!" Clark repeated.
*Oh, this is just great, I'm wondering what Martha Kent would do!* Lex put down the testing guide. "Clark, you keep not meaning to do things, but they keep happening. Somebody could get seriously hurt one of these days." He tried to talk gently, not accusingly.
"You sound like Mom," Clark muttered, looking away.
"Sorry if that's bad!" Lex snapped and picked up his book again.
"No, I mean...I wish she were still around." Clark had never yet been able to use any form of the word "dead" to talk about Alexia, and despite himself, Lex found it moved him.
"So do I."
"She and Dad are so different..."
Lex nodded.
"Dad wants me to be just like him, only even more, if you know what I mean. But I'm also part hers...and I'm *me*, too. Sometimes I don't think Dad really looks at me as me, the way that Mom always did." Clark looked at his brother. "Sometimes I'm jealous, you had her for longer than I did."
"Yeah."
"She never told me *what* to do, she just told me what she wanted me to do, and because she wanted me to, I did it." He paused. "Well, most of the time."
Lex smiled despite himself. "I think she's still my conscience."
"Dad says that the conscience is a form of-of-what's that thing he says?"
"External forces internalizing guilt into behavior constraints?" The words came so glibly that Clark half-laughed.
"Yeah, that."
"Well, there's one thing you've got to know about Dad and ethics," Lex said gravely.
"What's that?"
"Nietszche abhors a vacuum."
Anything that made his life seem more real was good. Always analyzing hypothetical business situations, testing himself in the labs, he wondered when real things would begin. Lionel had him reading philosophy, especially Nietzsche, and was telling him that he was the ubermensch, the pinnacle, but it felt about as real as that whole thing about people crouching in a cave and just seeing shadows of things. He wasn't quite sure that he believed it but it was weird in a good way to think about. Because if everything that people see are shadows, then there are real things making those shadows.
He emailed back his answers and then went back to the book on Roman history that Lionel had told him to read. Again, he'd rather have swallowed wet cement than admit it, but it was pretty interesting. When he talked about history, Lionel could make it seem as though it had happened in front of him. He talked about the emperors as though he'd known them, and when Clark had said so, he laughed.
"I do." He laughed more at Clark's expression. "Clark, these are the people you encounter each day. They make the same decisions, the same mistakes. I'm teaching you how to strip all these problems to the essentials, whether the protagonists are wearing togas, doublets and hose, or business suits. It's just like magic, son. Watch what the magician is doing, not what he wants you to think he's doing, and whatever happens, don't look where he's pointing."
Clark had gotten to Spartacus' slave revolt and was thinking about what went wrong; why the slaves were able to rebel and why they did, and why they lost. The one book didn't have enough on Spartacus himself so he went to the library to see if there was more. He felt uneasy when he read about Spartacus' death, his being crucified. He wished that he hadn't gone that far with Lex, even if Lex was being all righteous and whiny about it. *Lex has this Messiah complex, no wonder he'd say that he was crucified.*
"Oh, crap," he muttered. Lex was right after all. One of those footnotes that covers most of the page described the process in detail. "Well, how was I supposed to know?"
"What's that?" *Shit, he was in here!* Lex came from around the corner, a finger holding his place in some book about water testing.
"Nothing." After a moment, a habit engrained by Alexia Luthor that Lionel hadn't yet unrooted made him uncomfortable. "Well, actually..."
"Yes?" Lex sounded absent, so now would be a good time to get it over with."
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to nearly kill you...you were right, I could have." He waved the book in his brother's direction.
Lex noticed the title. *Hmmm, looks like he went to the source.* He paused, not certain what to say.
"I didn't mean to!" Clark repeated.
*Oh, this is just great, I'm wondering what Martha Kent would do!* Lex put down the testing guide. "Clark, you keep not meaning to do things, but they keep happening. Somebody could get seriously hurt one of these days." He tried to talk gently, not accusingly.
"You sound like Mom," Clark muttered, looking away.
"Sorry if that's bad!" Lex snapped and picked up his book again.
"No, I mean...I wish she were still around." Clark had never yet been able to use any form of the word "dead" to talk about Alexia, and despite himself, Lex found it moved him.
"So do I."
"She and Dad are so different..."
Lex nodded.
"Dad wants me to be just like him, only even more, if you know what I mean. But I'm also part hers...and I'm *me*, too. Sometimes I don't think Dad really looks at me as me, the way that Mom always did." Clark looked at his brother. "Sometimes I'm jealous, you had her for longer than I did."
"Yeah."
"She never told me *what* to do, she just told me what she wanted me to do, and because she wanted me to, I did it." He paused. "Well, most of the time."
Lex smiled despite himself. "I think she's still my conscience."
"Dad says that the conscience is a form of-of-what's that thing he says?"
"External forces internalizing guilt into behavior constraints?" The words came so glibly that Clark half-laughed.
"Yeah, that."
"Well, there's one thing you've got to know about Dad and ethics," Lex said gravely.
"What's that?"
"Nietszche abhors a vacuum."