TWELVE
In 1920, the people of Earth endured another fundamental shift in their consciousness and awareness when Superman made his debut. A shift greater than a Polish scientist in 1514 declaring that Earth was not the center of the universe. Greater than an English naturalist proposing in 1859 that evolution explained the development of humans rather than creationism. Greater because Superman was tangible. His existence could not be readily denied. His alien heritage? Maybe. But not his far beyond human abilities.
The world was divided in its belief that Superman was from another planet. The alien naysayers would point out he looked and acted so human. Aliens from other worlds were supposed to be monstrous, hideous beings intent on destroying Earth. There were others who chalked his powers up to government experimentation that was going to be unleashed if the World War had continued unabated. Conspiracy theorists tied Superman into a greater conspiracy involving Wonder Woman, whom many had dismissed as contrived propagandizing by the Western powers. Others would deem Superman to be a religious deity. The Christians claimed him as did most other world religions. Those more devout in their belief of a divine Superman would splinter from all religious sects to form a religion based solely upon Superman - Earth's savior from the heavens.
Most of Earth's people, however, believed the actual truth of Clark being a visitor from the planet Krypton, who grew up in the United States of America. The world outside of America feared Superman's indoctrination of American ideals and beliefs that could tilt the United States into superpower territory. Conversely, the American people would celebrate that Superman was "home grown." Clark, however, made it quite clear that he was not an agent of the American government. He could not make the world a better place if there was a belief that his actions were solely done for the benefit of one country. He loved America, but he would not represent Superman as an American. This would be another reason for Clark building a home and workspace in Antarctica.
Clark had saved much of his earnings while working at the Metropolis Institute of Technology. Moreover, years earlier while attending Metropolis University, Clark was the principal driver in developing a feasible vacuum tube detector, which would lead to the commercial infiltration of radios in homes across the world. He still remembered the joy in his father's face (and ears) the first time Pa Kent heard a baseball game being called over the AM radio. Clark was intelligent enough to get an in-perpetuity deal with the radio manufacturer. He had planned to end the contract after coming out as Superman, but Clark Kent's business partners would hear of no such a thing.
Clark was quite transparent in his world introduction via the "Daily Planet" newspaper. Before the article was published, he went through a two-day due diligence with Perry White, the newspaper's publisher and head editor. That was followed by a week-long interview session with Lois Lane. It took Lois another two days to transcribe all her notes.
She brought Clark an early "hot off the press" copy of the "Daily Planet" dated January 4, 1920. Clark, at the time, was still living in Metropolis. He was not expecting Lois at his apartment that Saturday evening, partly due to another heavy snowfall blowing through Metropolis. Opening his front door, Lois was quite evident of the outside weather as she stood with bursts of snow powder on her hat and coat.
"Lois?" Clark opened. "It has to be in the single digits out there. Not to mention that wind and snow. Get in here."
Clark placed his arm around Lois' shoulder guiding her inside his apartment.
"Thanks," Lois chattered. "I had to show you something."
"Um, Lois," Clark said while turning the heat up in his aprtment. "You do know I could have flown over to your place. The weather doesn't affect me that way."
"I know, I know," she said handing her hat to Clark and taking off her long coat. "I was just too excited. I had to show you."
"Show me what," Clark said.
Lois, under her coat, pulled out the next day's "Daily Planet" newspaper. She held it up for Clark to see. A few spots were wet causing some of the barely dried ink to dribble down on the paper. It mattered little as Clark stared captivated at the image of himself photographed in his Kryptonian attire, now to be forever known as Superman's uniform. Lois handed him the newspaper.
"Have a seat," Clark absently said contemplating the new reality of his situation. "I'll get us something hot to drink."
Lois sat down on one of the few pieces of furniture in the apartment. A rectangular, wooden coffee table was near the couch. A bunch of folders and papers were neatly organized on top of it. Another small, circular table with two dining chairs were in an area next to the kitchen. A radio and telephone sat on the lone windowsill.
"What do you think?" Lois asked.
Clark had placed the newspaper down on the kitchen counter. He opened a can of tea bags and placed one in each cup he had grabbed from the cabinet.
"It's really happening," Clark said picking up a tea kettle from the stove top. He went over to the sink and filled it with water.
"Yes," Lois said. "Regrets?"
Clark turned to Lois holding the tea kettle up to his head position. His eyes glowed a soft orange before subtle heat waves led from Clark's eyes to the tea kettle.
"Took me a while," Clark said. "To not go too hot and melt the metal."
Within a few seconds, the kettle began whistling as steam escaped out of the spout.
"Will I ever get used to your abilities?" Lois asked.
"Of course, you will," Clark said as he poured the near-boiling water into the cups. He steeped the bags a few times and walked over to the couch. He sat down handing Lois her tea and placing the newspaper on the table.
"Thanks," she said taking a blowing cool sip. "So, regrets?"
"To be honest," Clark said. "The regret is that I didn't do this sooner. I tell myself not to dwell on the lives I could have saved. Ships sinking. Earthquakes. The War. Other wars. The Red Summer horror here, on this soil last year. I've kept myself in a bubble for far too long."
"We discussed this," Lois said. "You'll drive yourself mad if you focus on those you did not save."
"Yet, I can't help it. I think about, how can I enact change?" Clark struggled. "Women. Colored people. The poor. All Americans, but mistreated on levels that shouldn't exist. It's daunting. I can't make myself Emperor and proclaim there shall be no more racism, sexism, classism; every negative ism there is. How do I change the hearts and minds, Lois?"
"One day, one person, one moment at a time, Clark," she responded. "You can be a light. A hope this country, this world needs. I have zero doubt, zero that you have the ability to change those minds, lighten those hearts. Your actions. Your examples. Hero. Protector. You will show them, us, that we can be better, treat each other better."
"An alien from another planet?" Clark retorted.
"Who better to observe the great and not so great things about us?" Lois responded.
"Neither one of us is naive enough to believe everyone will buy in," Clark said.
"Well, no. You can't expect that," Lois answered curling her lips into a smile.
"But, I'm Superman," Clark responded further lightening the mood while holding the next day's paper up.
"Still the perfect name," Lois said eyeing the folders on the coffee table. "What are all these?"
"Those," said Clark. "Is the brilliance of a German theoretical physicist. He's opened my mind to new ideas, theories when it comes to space. It deals with gravity and two related theories upon which gravity is subjected. One, being…the glazed look in your eyes telling me I should stop."
"You caught that?" Lois smirked. "I was lost at theoretical physicist, and no, you do not have to explain it. How about conversation a little more quaint. How are your parents?"
"Great transition, Ms. Lane. They're good," Clark said. "I'm spending some time up there after the news breaks. Make sure they're okay. Don't want the world to descend on them. They didn't ask for this."
"Well, speaking with them over the telephone," Lois began. "They exuded nothing but pride and love for their son. Keep that with you."
Clark smiled looking intently at Lois. "What about you? This will arguably be one of the biggest news stories ever. Was that narcissistic? Written by Lois Lane. A female journalist in a male dominated world."
Lois held the warm cup between her hands feeling the hot steam rise upon her face.
"I would be lying if I said I didn't think about it," she offered. "We're just getting the right to vote, Clark. That's ridiculous. Me getting this story, rather, you coming to me to do this story. One of my hopes is that it starts a chain of events where women are seen in a more capable light. Is that my narcissism?"
"I know you're capable," Clark said.
Lois' eyes glazed over, getting lost in the handsomeness of his face. She finally blinked and placed her cup on the table. Her other hand found his cup and placed it down. She gently tugged on Clark's shirt bringing his face towards her. Their elevated breathing ceased as their lips met. Tongues touched and probed finding their way into willing mouths. Tasting. Lois moved to straddle Clark from his lap.
She felt so warm against his body. A body that has withstood molten lava, and yet her flesh stirred him to feel her heat. He consciously tempered his body movements not wanting to hurt her.
Pleasure overwhelmed her as his hands moved lower down her back.
"Oh, Clark," she moaned pulling back to see his face.
Words were no longer needed as their bodies worked in tune. Lois began to unbutton her blouse. Her mouth creased opened, taking in Clark's climbing breaths. She could feel him.
Then the telephone rang. Neither heard it.
And rang. "Nooo," Clark grumbled.
And rang.
Lois looked down trying to conceal her annoyance and disappointment to the interruption. As did Clark putting his head upon Lois' chest. She placed a hand on the back of his head. His hair filtering through her fingers.
And rang.
"You should get that," she said kissing his forehead.
"Yeah," he managed as Lois moved back to sitting on the couch.
And rang.
"Hello," Clark said with a touch of irritation into the telephone. He was unable to keep his eyes off Lois, primal thoughts slammed into his emotions demanding to let instinct, desire take over.
"Repeat, Kelex," he said. His face quickly morphed from lust to concern. Thirty seconds later he placed the telephone receiver down on its hook.
"Everything okay?" she asked.
"Kelex. A wildfire. Brazil," Clark said.
"Oh," Lois responded consciously buttoning up her blouse. "I sometimes forget it's Summer down there."
"I'm sorry," Clark said. "I need to go."
Lois got up and walked over to Clark. She took his hands in hers. "Of course you do, Clark," Lois said in total sincerity.
In a flash, Clark disappeared and re-appeared in front of Lois. He wore his uniform, without the cape.
"First time out in this," he said.
"You look grand, Superman," Lois said.
"Did you want to stay here?" Clark asked. "I'm not sure how long this will take."
"No, no," Lois said. "I should get home. Tomorrow's not just a big day for you. My telephone will most likely be ringing non-stop."
"That I am certain of," Clark said. "Can I fly you home?"
Lois laughed. "There's a question I never thought I'd hear? No, I can walk. Helps me think."
"You okay?" he said placing a hand on Lois' arm.
"I am," Lois said. "You need to go."
Clark leaned down and kissed Lois. Her hands cupped his face not wanting to let go, but she did.
"See you soon," he said. "Turn the lights off?"
"Yeah," Lois responded.
Clark exited through the window, closing it quickly to prevent entrance of the blustery cold and snow. He hovered as Lois came over. A hand from each met on either side of the window. And then he was gone. She could only follow for a couple of seconds the distinct contrast of his red and blue uniform amidst the falling snow.
"Superman," she whispered leaning against the window frame.
By the end of 1920, Superman was the most famous person on Earth. When not saving people or mitigating natural disasters, he was meeting the peoples of Earth on their own home soil. He made it a point, at minimum, be able to introduce himself and greet people in the predominant language of the country he found himself in. It would take him just over a year to become fluent in languages used by half the world's population. In those spontaneous or planned visits, the world's governments would attempt on numerous occasions to curry Superman's favor, but Clark was steadfast in his beliefs of truth and justice for everyone.
Lois, by the end of 1920 had become a national celebrity in her own right. Hollywood execs inquired to any aspirations on her end of being the next Mary Pickford film star. Lois had the glamourous look, but her life was built for exposing unjust and fighting for those who did not have a voice in American society. Much of her time was going from one story to the next. Perry would have her in Washington, DC for much of the year covering the United States 1920 Presidential election. It was an important time in Lois' career. Not only would she be one of the few women in the pool of Washington, DC political journalists, but this was also the first election that she - a woman, could cast her ballot for either the Democrat or Republican nominee. Both candidates courted Lois endlessly for interviews hoping to gain some credence with the new, American voters' bloc - women.
Then there was Clark and Lois. Each wondered whether their relationship would have solidified if Clark had not taken the telephone call that night in January. Once the country and the rest of the world learned of his existence, Clark was in non-stop demand. With their schedules, he and Lois were only able to spend personal time with each other once or twice a month. Yet, during those moments, the two never came as close to consummating their relationship. There was a boundary between them that was hard to described, much less get over until it was crystallized in early June of 1920.
Clark met Lois at the Drake Hotel in Chicago, Illinois. She was covering the Republican National Convention. Clark was able to make his way to Lois' outside hotel window without anyone seeing him. He saw her silhouette through the window shade as he tapped on the glass.
"Hey, you," she said opening the window for Clark to come in.
Clark floated into Lois' hotel room.
"No Superman activities?" she asked noticing he was dressed in jeans and a pullover shirt.
"Not at the moment," he said walking towards her with arms wide open.
She smiled and settled into his chest for a deep, warm hug.
"So?" he said holding her close.
"So?" she responded gently breaking away.
"Ready for the convention?" he asked.
"Yeah," Lois replied motioning to her typewriter on a nearby writing desk. A bunch of loose papers were scattered there and on a nearby chair. "It looks like a done deal, but whoever comes out of this will most likely be the next President."
"A done deal?" Clark asked with raised eyebrow. "So, your first time voting doesn't count?"
"Ouch," Lois noticed. "That was a bit of me putting the proverbial foot in the mouth. You prosecuting me, Kent?"
Clark smiled. "Keeping you on your toes."
He stalked the room observing the most mundane of things. He could feel the tension where there should not be. He turned to Lois who was standing there with uncertainty in her eyes.
"What are we doing, Lo'?" Clark finally asked.
Lois looked down at her fingernails needing a manicure. She began rubbing her fingers.
"Clark," she said so sweetly, so sad looking back up to him. She struggled to maintain eye contact as her heart pumped so fast. Her thoughts became jumbled. "I think. I think we had a window."
"Not the one I just came through," Clark tried to joke.
Lois managed a half-smile.
"It's closed?" Clark continued. "Isn't it? Our window?"
"I, I don't know," Lois began.
"No, Lois," Clark interjected. "Don't do that. You're a straight shooter. We deserve to be honest with each other, no matter the truth."
Lois fiddled with her lips. Hoping for some revelation.
"Our lives," she said. "Both changed so much. I met you as a reporter looking for enough work to pay my bills. You met me as the smartest person I have ever met. Thinking I would never have a chance with such a man. Yet, there you were. In my world. Not an ounce of arrogance, there was, is strong confidence. You were sweet. Are. Are sweet, thoughtful."
Clark sat down on the edge of the bed. He stared at the dark, wood floor, his vision danced around Lois' pantyhose-cladded feet.
"Any man would smile upon his incredible fortune to have you on his arm," Clark said looking up into her eyes. "I would. But I feel. I feel this tension, haze between us. That we would be forcing rather than just doing."
"Why is that, Clark?" Lois pleaded. "I've been thinking about this, too. Us. And I keep coming up empty as to why."
"Maybe, it's not wanting to admit, verbally, putting it out there, admitting a truth," Clark responded. "Lois Lane now has the ability to bring forth change through her writing. A purpose that takes a backseat to nothing."
"And Clark Kent brings change through his incredible powers and kindness," Lois said. "His primary purpose."
Clark stood and moved closer to Lois. He took in her natural scent accentuated by a perfume with the perfect level of sweetness.
"I don't know what to say," Clark uttered. "It seems so, stupid for this to be where we are."
"One hundred percent honesty, Clark?" Lois asked.
"Always," he said.
"What you can do, for this world," she said. "It's bigger than a Lois and Clark relationship. Your existence is so singular and extraordinary. At some point, you may resent such a relationship."
"With you? That's a big leap," Clark said as he noticed Lois' inability to make eye contact with him.
"Lo'?" he questioned gently tilting her chin up. "You would resent me?"
"Clark," Lois began but could not continue.
"You don't want the label of being attached to Superman," he said. "Rather, simply, Lois Lane."
"Clark?" she nearly cried.
"No, no, I get it," Clark managed. "Wanting to forge your trail, just not one beside me. I'm not mad. I understand, I understand the thinking. You've earned a seat at the table, Lo'. Being in a relationship with me shouldn't be that ticket. Your follow-up features in the "Planet" have been sensational. Important. I will always wish, and hope nothing but the best for you."
"I don't want to hurt you," Lois said as tears threatened to release from her eye lids.
Clark held Lois by her face, and softly kissed her lips.
"It hurts," Clark said touching his forehead to hers. "Because I care for you. I, I…and I know you're hurting just as much. Yet, I know you will continue to be great, but I want you to demand more, to be happy. Find a happiness that works for you. Should you ever need me, do not hesitate."
He was gone from her hotel room before she opened her eyes. She would allow herself a good cry for the next fifteen minutes. And then Lois Lane would sit down at the desk, and type out her convention story that Perry wanted for tomorrow.
Five thousand miles away somewhere in the Aegean Sea, Diana's bare feet landed down upon the sandy beach island of Themiscyra. The island populated by the Amazons has been hidden from the world since its formation many millennia ago. A permanent fog illusion surrounded the island several miles in every direction. The fog was created by the God Dolus to maintain the illusion of there being no island for any ship or plane to ever see, much less come across. The God Poseidon controlled the sea's currents and waves so that no vessel would ever come near Themyscira, while Zeus himself made sure air currents subtly shifted planes' directions if they flew too close.
Diana carried her calf-high boots in her hands as her feet and toes enjoyed the massaging grain of the wet sand. A large satchel bag was laid over her shoulder. The full moon's brilliance highlighted the rolling surf's waves cascading upon the beach and her legs. She could have landed at her home's doorsteps high up the cliffs on the Northern end of Themyscira, but she wanted the walk. It was such a beautiful night.
She wore a weary smile having just returned from Chile. The last year was spent by Diana traversing South America, visiting museums in all its countries. She was most fascinated by discovered connections between Greece and Uruguay as she roamed the city of Montevideo. Her last South American stop was at Chile's National Museum of Fine Arts.
As fate would have it, there was a mining accident that last day of her trip. Eighty-seven miners cut off from daylight. Diana had her Wonder Woman gear with her, but up until that point, had no use for it. She excavated tons of rock and soil from the mountain side where the mine was situated. No one saw her as the rescue units were working elsewhere. The rescued miners could only hear her voice guiding them to the newly created exit. By the time they reached fresh air, she was gone.
And on her way home.
Diana's feet were covered in sand and soil as she continued her walk on Themyscira's well-traveled road leading up the cliff's side. Torches placed on the road's edges kept the path well-lit. Up ahead she saw the familiar outline of a figure coming to meet her. Diana's smile widened as Phillipus embraced her, lifting Diana up off the ground.
"It's good to see you, sister," Phillipus said putting Diana down.
"You too," Diana replied placing her hand upward on Phillipus' shoulder. "How is everyone?"
"Safe," Phillipus responded as she and Diana continued walking up.
"And mother?" Diana asked.
"The Queen fares well," she said. "She, we all still grieve Antiope and our fallen sisters. Their presence is sorely missed."
"That day," Diana said. "I think about it often."
"As do I," Phillipus responded. "I play back so many of those moments. What I could have done differently? These men are nothing without their guns."
"Time moves on, sister," Diana said. "Man will forever have a thirst for the ability to kill more effectively, faster and in larger numbers."
"That, I understand," Phillipus answered. "We are warriors. Protectors. Our duty is to master the abilities to carry out what we are, who we are."
"Then are we so different from man?" Diana asked.
"You have described a world to us where man is never content with what he has," Phillipus said. "So willing to fall prey to their baser evil instincts."
"I can not argue that," Diana responded. "But there are many that I have met. I call friends, who believe in a greater good through fighting such evil. Knowing love is greater than hate. I wish that you could come out with me."
"I'm not ready to lose immortality," Phillipus responded.
"How is she, Penthy?" Diana asked.
"Penthy is Penthy," Phillipus answered. "She knew the potential risks going to man's world. Are you an anomaly, or could all us leave Themyscira? Penthy has no regrets. Epione believes she will live only one hundred additional years."
"You believe mother was wrong for allowing her to go?" Diana posed.
"No," she responded. "I think it was a necessary action for us to understand the world of man is dubious and threatening. And we need to be on continuous guard. Of which, I'm still unable to reconcile something the Queen has never spoken about, how man's planes and boats found their way to Themyscira."
"No, she has not," Diana confirmed. "The Gods must have played a role. How else?"
"For what purpose?" Phillipus asked.
"Zeus knew Ares needed to be stopped," Diana said.
"But how could he possibly know you would go?" Phillipus asked. "And be able to defeat Ares?"
Diana stopped walking.
"Sister?" Phillipus asked turning to face Diana.
"Antiope and you taught me to be the warrior I am today," Diana said. "You are my mother's protector. I have only spoken to her, and confirmed by her, what I am about to tell you. I ask that you not say anything beyond you and me. At least not for the next day."
"My word, of course," Phillipus said.
"Tell me, what do you know of my birth?" Diana asked.
"Your birth?" Phillipus observed. "An event every Amazon knows. Queen Hippolyta wished and dreamed of having a daughter. So much so that she had sculpted by our finest artisan, a ball of clay to resemble a baby girl. Hippolyta kept the clay baby with her in the palace. Years passed and her dream remain unfulfilled. She fell into despair. Angry. She took the clay baby down to the sea's edge. As she tossed it up into the air, destined for the grace of Poseidon, a lightning bolt from Zeus struck the clay. Before the clay fell into the sea, Hippolyta could hear from it the cries of a baby. She rushed into the water and there you were. Diana."
"There I was," Diana said. "There was never a bolt of lightning, sister. Only Zeus, and his lust for Hippolyta."
Phillipus' training would not allow shock to register on her face. "Zeus is your father, father?" she asked.
"Yes," Diana said.
"Have you always known?" she followed up.
"Ares told me, while I was in Europe," Diana said. "Mother confirmed."
"Why would Hippolyta lie about that?" Phillipus asked. "I remember these moments, how is that possible?
"There was a clay baby," Diana said. "But when mother threw it into the sea, that is where it stayed. She said she felt Zeus' hand upon her shoulder as she was grieving on her knees. There he was, convincing her that he, and only him, would be able to give her the greatest joy of her life. To be a mother."
"So," Phillipus said. "Your father. Zeus. And a brother, Ares; your power, sister. We always knew, even when you were but a girl, you would be the greatest warrior of us all. But this, your true lineage is intimidating. Zeus knew you were the one."
Diana smiled. "I'm still the same person you knocked around and down when we were training."
"That was ages ago," Phillipus smiled. "The power you described in dispelling Ares. That's goddess-like."
"I have no desire to be a goddess," Diana said. "And that power, it's not constant. It comes and goes. Does that sound like a goddess to you?"
"You will learn. Your history will prove it so," Phillipus responded. "Have you met him? Zeus?"
"Ares took many forms in man's world," Diana said. "I don't know if Zeus and I have ever crossed paths."
"These forays into the outside world," started Phillipus. "You find enjoyment?"
Diana and Phillipus reached an ivory archway, ivy clung to its sides.
"I don't know if it's enjoyment," Diana said. "I want to understand them. Why they hate, fight, war upon each other? Is it harder for them to love than to hate?"
"You blame them for the loss of Trevor," Phillipus stated.
"How am I to answer that?" Diana responded entering an empty courtyard bordered by marble and stone structures. Fire torches flickered throughout placed on the walls.
"You loved a man," Phillipus. "A man, like all men, I believed to be beneath you. A man whose arrival brought death here. The first in nearly five hundred years. Yet, you found something in him to love."
"It sounds like I'm being judged," Diana said stopping to turn towards Phillipus.
"Tell me, sister," Phillipus asked. "Was Steve Trevor worth it?"
"These mortals live no more than, at best, one hundred years," Diana said. "That's not even a childhood for the Amazons. And yet, Steve. He sacrificed his life to save thousands, maybe more. And all I could do was watch him die. He was a good man, Phillipus. I will honor him with that memory."
"Will you seek out another?" Phillipus asked.
"Another what?" Diana said.
"Man," she responded.
"I have no desire for such a thing," Diana answered.
"You had no desire for a man at one point, either," stated Phillipus. "Before Trevor."
"Are you done poking, sister?" Diana asked.
Phillipus smiled and placed her arm around Diana's shoulder. "For now. Some sparring tomorrow?"
"That sounds, relaxing," Diana said. "But before that, I have something I want to address tomorrow."
"Okay," Phillipus said as they continued walking.
"Can you and mother, Menalippe, Epione, Mnemosyne, and Artemis meet me in the morning?" asked Diana.
"I don't see why not. Can I get a hint?" Phillipus asked.
Diana's face wrinkled in question for a bit. She reached into her bag and pulled out a weathered newspaper. She held it up for Phillipus to see, it was titled, "Estia" and dated January 5, 1920.
"I was in Athens earlier this year," Diana said. "I don't know what to make of this."
Phillipus looked over the image of a muscular man attired in a tight-fitting body suit with boots and an emblem on his chest. A cape, attached at his shoulders, seemed to have been photographed in mid-flap. Phillipus was surprised at how much of the newspaper's language she recognized.
"Superman?" she asked.