My name is Luke Garrett. I'm a reporter.
I was there when the superpowers problem began. I was there at the end.
I'll begin the story with that fateful meeting.
"R.H., are you aware of a bunch of strange creatures and characters climbing up the side of the building?"
Obviously, R.H. Steinsmith was aware because he was watching the creatures and characters; they appeared on monitors beside his desk.
R.H. was the head of Super Studios, and from behind his massive oak desk, he waved his cigar. It was said that every time he waved that cigar it meant new ideas and millions more in box office revenue. Such power in that cigar!
A small group of department heads had gathered in front of the giant desk. They, too, studied the monitors, some of them blinking curiously, others looking panicked or frightened
The department heads had gathered for their usual meeting. It was while they were outside chatting informally that they saw the creatures climbing up the building, and they quickly dashed inside to seek refuge in the office of the studio head.
As they all stared at the monitors, one department head, Nikki, spoke up as she pointed.
"That one looks like a giant spider wearing a dress."
R.H. responded with a calm voice and a straight face. "That's no giant spider. That's my wife." As R.H. maintained his straight face, the grins of the department heads flickered. "I'm serious," he insisted. "My wife volunteered for the experiments."
A department head named Mike gulped nervously.
"Experiments?" he said in a gasping nervous voice. Mike had been involved in one too many horror movies.
R.H. nodded. "It's time you knew. The studio has begun creating real-life superheroes."
As the scene switched to the exterior of the building, the voice of Rod Serling was heard.
"Good evening, everyone. I am the virtual Rod Serling program. I am programmed to talk like Rod Serling would. So let me say this: a Hollywood dream factory has just become a place where superheroes are no longer dreams. They are, in fact, quite real. That is bound to have consequences for this nation and the entire world. It could even go far beyond that. Watch and see what develops in 'The Twilight Zone.'"
As the monitors continued to display hideous creatures and colorful characters on the outside of the building, the department heads watched nervously.
R.H. grinned as he waved his cigar.
"Think of it, gentlemen. And gentle ladies. Gentle beings. Real-life superheroes. It couldn't be more exciting than if aliens landed."
The people watched in awe. Besides the giant spider in a dress and some other animals in clothes, the monitors showed an Ice-Man, a Rock-Man, and a Stretchy-Man.
"It's all because of what we call the Powers Formula," R.H. said.
"What does that do?" someone asked eagerly. "Does it create the standard package of super powers? Flight, strength, speed, invulnerability?" He sounded ready to volunteer.
R.H. looked grim. This was in contrast to all the department heads grinning broadly, like they were thinking, Wow! Real-life superheroes! Maybe we can become like the Justice League or the Avengers.
And our secret identities? Department heads!
"It does in some cases," R.H. said quietly, suddenly subdued. "Unfortunately, in other cases it creates problems. You can see them on the side of the building. The porcupine man, for example. And the giraffe man. And the lion man. And so on."
As all eyes returned to the monitors, R.H. gestured to a tall, lanky blond-haired man standing on his right. "I've been explaining all this to the reporter here."
Luke Garrett simply nodded.
R.H. went on. "The Powers Formula grafts on to a person's DNA and gives them powers unique to who they are."
"Oh!" one person exclaimed. "Kind of like the meteor rocks did to people on 'Smallville.'" When there were puzzled looks from the others, the man explained. ''Smallville.' That's the TV show about Clark Kent before he became Superman. There was a meteor shower filled with green rocks. Kryptonite, obviously. Made Clark Kent weak, gave normal people powers."
Putting a hand on her blazer, Nikki smiled teasingly.
"Jeff, could you be any more of a nerd?"
"I'm a geek," Jeff insisted mildly. Which is exactly what a geek would do.
The expression of one woman brightened.
"What about invisibility?" she asked. She was Sharon from Marketing. "Could this formula make me invisible?"
"We haven't figured out how to do that one yet," R.H. said. R.H. Always candid and matter-of-fact. "But I've heard another studio has done that."
"Besides, Sharon, how could you ever be invisible to anyone?"
"Thanks, Roger."
"So," R.H. said. "We haven't figured out invisibility. But I've heard we're making progress in a lot of areas."
R.H. A guy who always knew what was going on. Like he was constantly in touch with all parts of the world.
"And don't worry about my wife. This is temporary. She'll be back to normal." He chuckled lightly. "Wouldn't want to sit at the breakfast table with a giant spider now, would I? Of course she won't likely volunteer for any more experiments."
After some light laughter, the department heads all stopped to stare at the monitors. One monitor displayed an exterior location at the studio.
A man in red and blue—red square on his chest, red rectangles on his calves—lifted an old-fashioned car. A Studebaker, it looked like. The red-and-blue man had the car tilted like he was trying to dump out all its contents.
Suddenly, the man lifted the car over his head and threw it. All the department heads gasped.
R.H. pointed. Another monitor showed the car landing on the roof of a house, a fake house in the back lot. "Oh," the department heads cooed as one.
Back on the original monitor, Red-And-Blue Man stood with his hands on his hips. He wore a red square around his waist with a giant gold belt, like something a professional wrestler would wear. He vigorously rubbed his hands which were apparently covered with white powder because white clouds flew from those hands.
After maybe a minute of the department heads murmuring their appreciation and approval, with Luke furiously writing notes, one man spoke up in a nervous voice.
"Not to ruin this historic moment, R.H. But how will this affect us?"
R.H. raised his eyebrows, and his cigar, as he responded. "You mean how will it change society, impact health care, influence the economy and change the balance of power in the world?"
"Well, yeah. Obviously. That. Yeah." The man shrugged his shoulders. "But mainly how will it affect our jobs?"
A wry smile from R.H. "Oh, yes. That. Of course."
A man stepped forward. Tall and bald with a broom mustache, he looked like a "Star Trek" character named Harry Mudd. This was Joe, the chief of cinematographers, though he called himself "The King Of The Cameramen."
"I suppose you won't need cameramen any more. Just attach a camera to some guy as he's flying around."
In response to Joe's skeptical inquiring tone, R.H. snorted. "Do you know what that footage would look like?" Know-It-All Eddie, R.H.'s assistant, raised his hand but was not called on. "It would look even worse on the big screen." With a deep frown and narrow eyes, Eddie nodded his deep agreement and affirmation. "Obviously, we can't have a cameraman flying next to a real flying superhero. And if we film the superheroes from far away, that footage would be like what you'd see with Bigfoot or the Loch Ness Monster."
"Oh!" Eddie exclaimed. "Can we make a Bigfoot and a Loch Ness Monster, too? They could battle it out with the superheroes!" Eddie waved his fists wildly as he pummeled an invisible foe. As he did, Eddie almost hit Luke. R.H. placed his large right hand on Eddie's fists and lowered them.
"I'll take it under advisement," the studio chief said curtly. R.H. Always the diplomat.
With the Eddie-fist-threat eliminated. R.H. turned back to the department heads. "The point is, even with real-life superheroes, we'll still need to engage in conventional movie-making."
"Although," Eddie said, "since movies are magic, can anything about them really be conventional?"
As he often did with his assistant, R.H. showed annoyance. But he continued on. "The point is, we will need cameramen and special effects people." Sharon from Marketing lifted a finger. "Don't worry. Even though the superheroes will bring us a lot of free publicity, we'll still need people to buy ads and send out press releases." He pointed to another person. "We'll also need stunt people."
Luke had heard the stunt people went out on weekends and raided the dens of DVD pirates. He might want to talk to them later. That could make an interesting story.
R.H. swept his hand over the people in the room. "In short, we'll need all of you."
Silence followed. Wow, some thought. There are real-life superheroes. And we get to keep our jobs! Yippee!
One brave soul dared to venture this.
"Pardon me, R.H., but it sounds like having real-life superheroes isn't really going to save us money. Why do it then?"
R.H. adopted a serious look, perhaps the most serious look of his life.
"This is about far more than money, my dear friends," he said. "This is about changing the world."