Clark reflected on his conversation with Alfie, the guy had more common sense and practical logic than many men who had a wall full of academic qualifications, for this reason and his stoic loyalty Clark respected him a great deal.
Now as the night sky filled with stars, Clark found himself looking down at the buried sphere which had delivered him to Earth. His father had shown him where he had hidden the long inactive machine. Jonathan Kent had dug a hole in the earth; and buried the alien device in far corner of the Kent's yard. Ever since Clark had learned of his origins; his birth name – Kal-El; this quiet corner of the farm had taken on a different meaning.
His supernatural vision penetrated the dirt easily but found the sphere – as always - to be impenetrable. Part of him remained curious about the machine, and yet another part afraid, and last of all there was the sense that this was a grave; the tomb of a lost world, of Krypton, of Jor-El of Lara.
Clark's huge leap took him to the corner of Forty Acre Field. There among the trees he recognised the stony outcrop he needed. The heavy chisel he carried made fast work of the hard rock. Clark didn't need a hammer, his hands drove the hardened steel into stone effortlessly, his hand a methodical blur of repetitive motion. Cutting one then a second identical stone slab from the exposed rock-face. Clark used another harder stone still, to polish them, his hands a blur of motion, then after a close inspection he was satisfied; collecting the slabs like huge sheets of card, he ran back to the Kent Farm.
Standing above the tomb of his alien crib, Kal-El remembered Kyrpton. Powerfully he drove the stone slabs into the earth, one next to the other; two identical head stones. Across the horizon the Sun began rise – and a new day dawned.
With his finger he carved Jor-El and then Lara. He stood back, framed in the sun rise, looking at the completed work, he whispered.
"Now I have remembered who I was. Now I must become who I am to be."
Jonathan looked at the headstones. Clark had confessed how he'd spent his night over breakfast.
"Look like they've been there always son."
"You don't mind Pa?"
Jonathan knew Clark was concerned for his feelings, for Martha's feelings; he didn't want to offend them.
"I can't say that I do. It's only fitting we remember those who've gone before."
Jonathan put an arm around his son.
"Clark, we've always told you in due course when you're old enough, when you're ready you'd have to find your way in the world, to use your exceptional abilities for the greater good, for our country; for justice and truth – that's the American way.
"I guess I'm saying we never expected you to be a farmer."
"Pa, I don't think I'm going to come with you and Mom to Maryland."
"I know son.
"Don't fret about growing up, like I said, your Mom and I knew this time would come, maybe it's come sooner than we'd expected, but don't think for a moment we'd stand in your way, a man got to do, what a man has go to do.
"Besides we've been thinking about this... for some time now; you've given us reason to think; any way son before you go out into the world..."
"Metropolis I thought Pa."
"Sure Clark, Okay Metropolis - you should look up your Uncle Nathaniel and Aunt Mary; about time they did something useful.
"Any way – I was saying, before you go to Metropolis your Mom has something that belongs to you."
Clark a little puzzled followed his Pa into the house.
"Clark is going to Metropolis Martha."
"From the smallest of towns to the biggest of cities. That's a mighty leap Clark."
Jonathan laughed. "If any man is able to make mighty leaps it's our boy."
Martha frowned. "Big place Metropolis, and it's not all shiny and new like the Pictures paint it; or Mary writes it."
"That's why I'm going Mom."
Martha frowned. "Could you get me those cookies out of the oven Clark. I have something for you besides those."
"Metropolis indeed." Martha muttered.
"And what's going to happen to our bullet proof boy?" Jonathan teased her – leaning in whispering. "Heck Martha he doesn't even need oven gloves, look at him! It's like he's made of steel."
Martha pulled a cute face and pushed back her hair.
"So Clark. Say a building is on fire, and people are need of help – what then?"
"Why Mom – I'd rescue them."
"And when your running around a burning building, what happens to your clothes – they'll be burned from off back, and then what?"
"That is a problem." Clark agreed.
"Exactly!" Jonathan said. "Metropolis isn't Kansas, can't go running around and not expect to be seen."
Martha pointed at her son. "Clark I'm not having you doing those heroics of yours, heroics that you are bound to do, only to end up running around America's largest and busiest city like a savage."
"Mom we know that my clothes aren't tough enough; but what else can I do?
"That said, I was thinking about steel. Maybe I should make myself a suit of steel. That might work?"
"Hardly a friendly or even practical outfit." Martha replied. "Scary I'd say; and why would you want to scare people? Besides we've both been thinking about this problem."
Martha took a wooden box from the dresser; opening the lid she unpacked from plain paper wrapping a tiny fabric tunic.
Holding it up to the window so Clark could see the bright primary colours in sunlight. The blue and red, a flash of yellow, and a peculiar shield.
"Hope." He said.
"Pardon Son?" His Father asked.
"The symbol it means hope." Clark replied. "I don't know why I know it means hope, but it does, I'm certain of it."
"This is the suit that you were wearing when you came out of the machine." Martha explained.
"Yeah sure, you told me about that a while back – but I don't get how this baby suit helps?" Clark laughed. "It's tiny. Like a dolls outfit. I mean how did I even fit into that as a baby; unless I was an incredibly small baby... was I... ?
"Nope." His father replied. "You were on the generous side if anything."
Martha grabbed the suit and tugged. "It stretches see."
"Not a lot Mom. Ok maybe enough for a baby..."
"Clark, here take it, you try."
Clark looked at his Pa, who nodded enthusiastically, taking the suit from his mother, he took hold of the arms and pulled. The alien fabric stretched elastically, it didn't change in colour, just in size, there was some distortion, but Clark was only expanding the fabric in one direction.
"Wow. It's so stretchy, and so thin, and yet so strong."
Martha nodded.
"I got thinking a while back, about how you'd given up wearing regular clothes when you were leaping around. That bothered me. It was then I remembered how that baby suit had shrunk when we peeled you out of it.
"I guess it was so funny looking to us we just put it away and forgot about it."
"Your Pa and I were talking about things, you being who you are, and I thought just maybe since that baby suit looked so much like the ones in the recording of your birth parents, that it just might actually be the same; you know like a one size fits all sort of suit."
Jonathan picked up the story.
"So after your Mom had found the suit again, I tried to stretch it and it did. Then I figured what I needed was more pull; and so that's when I tried it in the bench vice and me tugging on it - hard as I could; and I managed to get it bigger still.
"Then son. Watch!"
Jonathan too out the carving knife, and tried to cut the alien cloth. He couldn't
"Won't burn either, I tried that. It repels water, grease, dirt, everything I threw at it."
Clark took the suit into his hand. He smiled.
"Okay I better try this on."
He winked at his Mom and stepped out of the kitchen, moments later he reappeared.
"Oh my word!" Martha gasped.
Clark stood tall, and at his centre – visually – was the symbol of hope. The same glyph Martha had first seen as a random pattern of red shapes on a yellow background edged by red, that Jonathan had described as the stylised 'S'.
This shield dominated the suit, drawing the observers eyes to it's vividness.
"Well the gal's won't be looking at your face so much in that get up." Jonathan laughed.
The costume was mainly blue. This thin blue fabric covered Clark's athletic frame like a second skin; clinging to his muscled torso, his arms and legs.
Red shorts seemed to sit on top the blue costume, mainly because these where of a different slightly thicker material, and as result where – and probably for the better - less revealing; a yellow belt topped these shorts. The boots were the same shade of resplendent red, and appeared part of the suit, but at the same time distinct, and their leather look material also stretching while remaining uniformly thicker than the rest of the costume.
"This feels great; but you know what I really need?
"A cape."
Clark began to explain. "You see I've been thinking too.
"Sometimes when I leap it's like I need more control, something to help me turn and maybe slow down, you know something a bit like a parachute - and I think I could use a cloak to do that.
"Then as I was pulling this costume on I remembered how Mom said that I was wrapped inside a red blanket too. So it occurred to me that if it's the same sort of indestructible material as this suit, then it might work as a cape."
Martha nodded. "I know exactly where that is."
Returning after a few minutes she passed a brown paper bundle to Clark, unwrapping the red blanket he could instantly tell it was the same fine fabric as the main part of the costume, while being same shade of red as the boots and shorts.
"Pa you said Jor-El wore a cape."
"Sure he did, and Lara, they both did."
Clark held up the alien cloth. There was an all yellow version of the 'S' Shield in the centre.
"I just think this is one too; not a blanket but a cape, they must have used this like a blanket for me, so I guess it was important to them."
Clark flexed and twisted, he threw the red cloak across his shoulders, it fell dropping like a red sail. He held it there for a moment, his fingers pressing against the fabric, and almost imperceptible depressions in both suit and cape seemed to fit together; which they did.
"Yeah, that's just snazzy!" He said dropping his hands, the cape was now held in place by the invisible but pre-existing mounting points.. "I like it, feels right. It adds a touch of class."
"I guess I won't look like a savage any more."
"No son, that you do not." Jonathan agreed. "You look like a hero."