JIMMY OLSEN

This is such an ordinary day.

I woke up feeling great. I had a plan. Get up at the crack of dawn and go out to take pictures of the sun rising. Not really the actual sun, I mean. So many people do that already. I know of about a billion photos of the sun rising over the sea, or the hills, or between skyscrapers. No, I wanted to take pictures of my city waking up, getting ready for the day ahead.

Central City has always been amazing in the mornings. The smell of freshly brewed coffee, ready to be taken by the frenetic customers, fills the streets from the very early hours of the day. The sound of people walking to work, talking to their phones about how late they are going to be, or how late they already are, rises above any other sound in the city. And that's not even what I like most about Central City. That's not even its best quality.

The best thing about Central City is its colours at sun rise. As soon as the first rays of light hit the tall buildings on the street, Central City gets involved in a bright red tone, a lively colour. It's unlike anything I've ever seen. It's almost like the feeling of reading a book again. Everything seems different, yet familiar. Every building becomes something else. Every person becomes someone else, or maybe they just become themselves, I don't know. All I know is that everything gains a new life, a new story. The story I want to tell.

I guess waking up with this ever changing city outside my window, everyday, for twenty two years, has made me want to capture those moments, those stories, in pictures. They are little bits of time, doorways to the past.

So that was my plan. But, of course, things just couldn't go according to plan, could they? I had to be called in to work, to Standler's Special, the best restaurant in downtown Metropolis. Or so the sign says. And, of course, the bridge is packed.

The Wheeler-Nicholson Bridge was once one of the pride jewel of both Central City and Metropolis. Extending across Fox Bay with two levels of four lanes, the bridge was thought impossible to build but thanks to a joint effort of Star Labs and LexCorp, the people of Central City and Metropolis were now closer together. That was until the two companies that financed the whole thing started to fight over who should go down in history for such an achievement. Five years and numerous court cases later, the bridge is now left with little to no maintenance due to a corporate cold war. Thing is, like me, a lot of people in Central City started to look for a job in Metropolis and vice versa. And that leaves me in the middle of the traffic, completely stuck.

A sudden flash of light gets me in the eye. I look out the window, searching for the origin. When I find it, I can't help but daydream. Standing as the tallest building in Metropolis is the Daily Star, home of the most famous newspaper this side of the bay. The exterior is all glass, a symbol of the paper being incorruptible and running news that matter. If I could choose, that is where I would work. As a photographer for the Daily Star. But it's tough, the editor-in-chief, Perry White, is known to be quite strict with the people he hires. "What is it about you that no one else has in this building?" That's what he asked me when I applied. And the truth is...nothing. I'm just a regular guy who wakes up early in the morning to take pictures of a city still half asleep.

There's a shot here. The sun shines its light on the building who reflects it all over the city. I take out my camera from my bag on the passenger seat. I look forward to check the traffic, part of me hoping that it's moving, part of me hoping it's not. The later is the happiest. I place the camera strap around my neck, open the window and lean outside. I point the lens towards the centre of the Daily Star, it takes me a moment to align the shot, but when I do, I breathe in to steady my hands and press the button.

A quick metallic sound and a blink of the lens tells me that I've captured another window of the past. I quickly check it on the camera screen. It turned out better than I expected. The glass building looks like it's made from pure light, it's a sun within the city, shining bright and warm. I try to think of names for the picture but nothing seems more appropriate than simply Star. I lean back in my seat, camera still around my neck and notice a little rumbling underneath me. Must mean that the traffic is finally moving up a bit. I look forward, ready to press the accelerator, but notice that no car is moving. And yet, the floor is rumbling more and more. I start to see people leaving their vehicles and looking up, to the second floor of the bridge, pointing and gasping.

I open my door and leave my car. Like everyone else, I look up.

It's an earthquake, and it's bad. Real bad.

The bridge is now physically shaking, cars are starting to move around a bit and, on the top floor, cracks begin to appear. The whole thing is going to come down. Panic is instated, people are running away, children are being carried, men and women are climbing over cars, trying to get off the bridge, to safety. I should really do the same. But I can't. For some reason I am paralyzed. It could be fear, I think being on a bridge that is collapsing is reason enough to fear for your life, but this is something else.

There's a shot here. There's a story that is screaming to get told. Cars are starting to fall off the edge of the bridge into the water. This is suicidal, and a bit stupid, but I am going to take these pictures. I point my camera up, down, left and right, taking pictures of everything I can. The falling cars, the people running away, the screams. Photography is all about moments, seconds that get immortalized. Chunks of rubble are now falling from the top floor. It's only a matter of minutes until it comes down.

I start following everyone's example and run towards one end of the bridge. I try to climb over some of the cars that are blocking my way, but the bridge is shaking too much. I loose my ground and fall on my back. As I look up, the bottom of the top floor cracks open. Cars start falling everywhere, crashing on the vehicles of the lower lanes. I am paralyzed, but this time it's all fear. In the middle of this catastrophe, a green sports car starts falling, and it's coming right for me.

I've always heard of people saying that your life flashes before your eyes just as you are about to die. That always sounded weird to me. I mean, if you lived for eighty years, I'm sure there would be a lot of flashing, right? It's a lot of years to remember, that's all I'm saying. But right now I get what they mean. It's not like your whole life appears before you, it's more that you can only think of the things you hold dearest to you. The people, the places, the creations, the memories, that is all you can think of in the moments before you die. That's what's happening to me. The pictures I've taken, my mum and dad, Central City by sun rise, it's all I can remember now. The smell of coffee, the people on the streets, the bright red colour of the morning...

That car is getting closer now. I don't have time to do anything. But you know what? There's a shot here. If I'm going to die, at least I'll take the pictures no one else can. I know that the camera, like myself, will be crushed by the weight of that car, but I feel less frightened when I have a lens between me and the world. I point the camera up, close my eyes and hold down the button for a burst of pictures, my last pictures, the last story I'll ever tell.

It feels strange waiting for your own death. It takes such a long time. Why is it taking so long? Do I dare opening my eyes just to see that car falling on me? I don't. I remain here just waiting.

Waiting.

Waiting.

Why am I still waiting?

I open my eyes. I cannot believe what I'm seeing.

A man, a regular man, is holding the car that was about to crash me above his head. He's wearing some sort of blue suit and a red cape. He's got a red S inside a diamond on his chest. He's...smilling? forget what I said about regular. This man is holding a car and he is smiling at me like a benevolent angel who has just allowed an inferior being to live. He places the car on the floor like someone puts a baby in bed. He helps me up.

"Are you alright?" He asks, his voice calm and low.

"I guess so..." I want to thank him but I'm still getting over what I've just seen.

"I need to get you to safety, there are more people that need help." He picks me up and then jumps...no, flies to the one end of the bridge that is not falling apart. After putting me down, he disappears. Next thing we know, the cars that are falling off the bridge are coming back up, pushed by some red and blue blur whizzing through the air. People start cheering, no doubt a nervous reaction.

"Who is that?" Some ask.

"I dunno, but it sure saved our asses back there!" Others say.

"Sorry, excuse me." Someone touches me on the shoulder. I turn around. A woman, around my age, is looking at me. She is slightly taller than me, but then again I am not the tallest of guys, she has got black hair that match her black-toned skin perfectly. She is very pretty.

"Yes?" I can't really speak right now.

"He saved you, didn't he? The man in blue?" I can only nod at her and look back to the scene. The earthquake seems to have stopped but the blue blur is still flying around, saving people from wreckage and cleaning up the bridge.

"Excuse me, sorry to be a pain." The girl is now face to face with me. "I can't help but notice you have a camera, I was wondering if you didn't accidentally take pictures of him."

My camera!

I had totally forgot about it. I turn the screen to myself, the girl circles me so she can check the pictures. I go back to the moment I started the burst. It's really dramatic, the car falling, slowly, towards the camera, and then, out of nowhere, he appears. He grabs the car and falls on one knee with the weight of it, but then, gets back up on both legs. The S on his chest is in great focus, somehow, dragging all the attention from the rest of the frame.

"These are really good pictures, Mr...?"

"Olsen. Jimmy Olsen." I say. Good to know I still remember my name.

"Nice to meet you." She smiles and I smile back, I feel so alive now. I've also heard about this, the fact that, after experiencing a near death experience, people gain a new view on life, generally becoming more grateful for everything. "Listen, I need to ask you something. Could I borrow some of those pictures for my blog? I'm trying to get into journalism and, if I write an article with those pictures, there's no way one of the papers in Metropolis in not going to notice me."

Journalism...

"Hum...sure, but you have to say I took them! You see I'm also trying to get into journalism." Trying is a very strong word for what I've done. Applied once to the Daily Star, that was it. "So maybe someone will notice me as well.

"Oh yeah, sure." She seemed okay with it. She pulled a notepad out of her bag, wrote something on it, tore that page and gave it to me. "That's my phone number, call me when you're ready, I understand this is quite the shocking time."

She starts turning away to leave. I look to her number but something is missing.

"Err, sorry." I say. "I can call you, but I don't know your name and, well, you didn't write it down."

"Oh, I forgot." She seems a bit embarrassed by such an omission. "Name is Lois. Lois Lane."