Other People's Heroes (The Heroes of Siegel City)

by Petit, Blake M.

  She laughed and he smiled -- they had a particularly good arrangement in that respect. He took out two packages, both about the same length but one considerably thicker. “This first one is actually a present for the both of us. Here.”

  She took the package and opened it up to reveal a small white box. When she unfolded the top she pulled out a figurine of a little boy and a little girl out ice-skating together. They held a sign between them that read “Our 1st Christmas Together.”

  “Oh, Edward, this is so sweet.”

  “I thought it might be nice to establish a tradition or two. They had an entire line of these things at the store. I thought perhaps we can go out next year and purchase the next one together.”

  “Next year?” Nancy said. “So... there’ll be a second Christmas?”

  “I certainly hope so,” he said, and she kissed him for that, and he accepted. Then he handed her the second package, which was opened to reveal a gold charm bracelet.

  “A lion and a lightning bolt,” she said. “Is this us?”

  “Oh, you’re so smart,” he said.

  “I love it. This is wonderful.”

  “I thought it would be nice for you... just in case.”

  She slid her hand into the bracelet and latched it. “In case what?”

  “Well... let’s be honest, Nancy, you and I aren’t exactly in the safest line of work. I’m sure police officers and firemen often give their girls sort of... ‘in case’ gifts.”

  “Most firemen don’t have their girls putting their lives on the line with them,” she said. “I’m not saying nothing could ever happen, but hasn’t it occurred to you that I have just as good a chance of... not making it as you do?”

  “It has,” he said. “But frankly, I think I’d rather fall myself than let anything happen to you.”

  “Don’t talk like that.”

  “Sorry.”

  It was, in fact, the first conversation either of them had about the chances of one of them dying in the three years they had been members of the LightCorps together. Of course, it was the first Christmas they had being a “them” instead of being two teammates, two comrades, but nothing more. Nancy didn’t quite remember what happened to change it, but she knew that the initial moves had been hers, and she had always been mildly nervous that he was only reacting to her affections rather than expressing his own. A silly paranoia, she knew, but one she couldn’t avoid.

  “I know it’s possible, Edward,” she said, “but... the thought of losing you now, just when we’ve become something... really special.”

  “I think we’re special too,” he said. “But the lunatics that are out there trying to kill us won’t care.”

  “I know,” she said, taking the figurine and putting it on the bookshelf. “Do we have to have this conversation, Edward? It’s Christmas Eve.”

  “I’m sorry, I didn’t want to upset you. I’d jump off bridges to keep from upsetting you.”

  “Well yeah, but you can fly.”

  He laughed. “You know what I mean.”

  “Yeah.” That’s when something inside her bubbled to the surface and forced its way out of her mouth, something neither of them had said before, at least not since their attraction had been confessed. “Edward?”

  “Yes?”

  “ I love you.”

  His face grew longer in a look of unmistakable surprise and she spun around, pretending that she was adjusting the figure. Stupid, stupid, how could she have said something so stupid? “God, I’m sorry--”

  “Sorry? Dear God, don’t be sorry.” His voice was cracking, and when Nancy turned around she saw the most powerful man on Earth coming up behind her with a single tear rolling down his cheek.

  “Are you crying?”

  “I... I just didn’t expect that.”

  “Edward, you’ve had girlfriends. Do you mean no one has ever said that to you before?”

  “Well...” he placed a hand on her should and turned her until their eyes met. There were still a few tears in his. “No one else has ever said it first before.”

  As he kissed her, the light roared up again and he was gone, but she could still feel him on her lips, twelve years later.

  Nancy’s mind crunched as she absorbed the revelation that it was now, not then, that the man holding her by the hand was not Edward, that although the memory she had just tasted was wonderful it was only that, a memory. “What was...” she started to ask before she realized that was the wrong question. “Why did you give me that?”

  “Because you needed to remember,” he said, and she noticed that his cheeks were a little rounder, that they had some of their pink back. And the twinkle in his eye, before only hinted at, was now quite evident.

  “Will you help me, Nancy?”

  She smiled -- one of her first genuine smiles in a long time.

  “Hey,” she said, “who could say ‘no’ to Santa Claus? So... what do I do?”

  “You’re already doing it.”

  She glanced around and saw he was right. The clocks were not moving, the refrigerator was not humming. She had become so lost in the memory of Edward that she’d tried to preserve it the only way she knew how -- by freezing time.

  “It’s not quite enough,” he said, “not yet. Time has only slowed for us, in this room. Now reach out. That’s all you have to do. Just... reach... out.”

  Nancy sent her power out and she felt the world’s spin change to match her own slowed-down time. First, here in Boston, cars stopped, drinks were frozen in mid-pour, parents hastily attempting to assemble toys were trapped trying to untangle a bicycle chain.

  Elsewhere, birds stopped flying but did not fall. Hearts stopped beating but no one died. Everywhere there was a great freeze, a great Slowing, and the whole world, in very literal terms, grew still.

  The strain was enormous. Nancy had never expended so much power before and she had no idea how long she would have to hold it.

  “Now what?” she asked.

  “Now,” he said, “my friends go to work.”

  Nancy could feel, in the middle of the stillness, motion. It began somewhere in the north and it spread, branching out like roots, creeping down the whole of the world.

  And he knew everything. Each time one of the roots stopped and touched a child, it asked the same question. The answers were almost never the same -- building blocks, a teddy bear, a football, a video game. She was feeling the entirety, the now, and with each stop, each time her companion gave of himself, his smile grew larger.

  But for all her power, Nancy had to remember that she did not really stop time, just slow it down so much that its passage became imperceptible. And as time did creep, and as the first children woke up and found Christmas morning, the visitor’s smile grew brighter, his figure fuller and more robust and finally, after what felt to Nancy like centuries, the job was done and the twinkle in his eye was so bright that she had only seen its like once before, in Edward’s last moments, and she cried out in grief and joy as she finally released her power and allowed the world to begin again.

  When she awoke to a larger, warmer world, she was surprised to find her friend still there, looking plump and jolly and quite convincing, even to a faithless cynic like herself.

  “You’re still here,” she said.

  “I owed you a thank you.”

  “No you didn’t. But you’re welcome.”

  The sun shone in her window and she realized she’d slept the whole night right there on the floor of her office. And although she was tired, she’d never felt more alive.

  “What are you?” she asked. “What are you really?”

  “I’m old Saint Nick.”

  “Oh I know that,” she said, “But what are you? You’re not normal, not a man... not even a jolly old elf.”

  “Oh, and I suppose you’ve met elves?”

  “I have, actually,” she said. “I used to be in a pretty eclectic line of work, you may recall. But you’re something else. What? An alien? Ghost? Som
e sort of funky interdimensional spirit?”

  “I’m a spirit all right,” he said. “Let’s leave it at that.”

  “Okay.”

  “I suppose I’ll be going home, now. I’ll be more than well enough to do this myself next year.”

  “Good-bye, then.”

  He stood up and shook himself. He lifted a hand to his face, but before he made contact, he nodded to her desk. “It’s Christmas morning, Nancy. Open your present.”

  And then he lay a finger aside of his nose, and he was gone.

  Nancy lifted the small package from her desk, the one with the wild, multicolored cords in the wrapping. The other one was a memory, was the past. What then, was this?

  She opened the top and peered in and, like before, she was consumed by light.

  The vision was different this time, not a memory, not even something that definitely belonged to her, but she knew it was real. She saw Jay, first, not as he was years ago, but as he was now, stronger and prouder, but with sadder eyes. He was in uniform, in battle, the way she always thought of him.

  And he was not alone.

  At his side was a young man -- no older than she herself had been when she last became Lightning -- wearing a modified version of the uniform Edward used to wear, only darker, with muted colors. He wore it well.

  And standing with them both, clad in his own uniform, looking not a day older than he had the last time she saw him, looking even stronger and prouder than ever, was Edward himself. Alive, and breathing, and fighting on.

  And the vision ended. The package and the wrapping glittered away into thin air, and she felt a rush of warmth envelop her.

  If the first package was the past...

  She got up, showered, and dressed in her most warmest, most festive clothes, then turned her powers on herself, speeding up enough so that the journey to Siegel City would take no time at all. Walking through her living room, she stopped and looked at the row of figurines on her bookshelf. Before she left she took the newest figure, “Our 13th Christmas Together,” and turned it around to face the room and the decorations, turned it away from the magazine on the shelf with Edward’s picture on the cover, turned it so that the little boy and the little girl were finally looking ahead.

  Inciting Incident

  Last summer I received word from Scott Roche, a fellow podcast author whose work I quite admire, that he was working on a new eBook science fiction anthology called Flagship. When I heard the theme of the first issue would be “Origins,” the following story came to me I was honored to be included in the first edition of Flagship, from Flying Island Press. You can check out Scott’s stuff at www.spiritualtramp.com or buy back issues of Flagship as an audiobook or an eBook from www.flyingislandpress.com. This story takes place a few years prior to Other People’s Heroes.

  According to his figures, if he jumped from the roof of Simon Tower, it would take Ethan Hellig approximately 47 seconds to hit the ground. He had no intention of hitting the ground, of course, but standing as he was on the precipice, it was rather impossible not to ponder the numbers.

  The experiment was untested, after all. He had every reason to believe it would work, that the apparatus he was wearing would perform perfectly, that the variables would all align as predicted… but even the most assured prediction was just that until he put it to the test. And this wasn’t exactly the sort of test he could attempt on a gerbil first. It would have to be all him.

  He checked his helmet, checked the straps on his mechanical wings and rocket booster, triple-checked the status of the energy reservoir. “Here goes nothing,” he mumbled, mostly because he felt such a moment called for words of some kind and nothing better occurred to him. Holding his breath, he stepped into the air.

  He’d been skydiving before, but this wasn’t really the same thing. Jumping from a plane, you were completely out in the open, falling through nothing. Now he was falling down through a chute of steel and concrete, acutely aware of the buildings on every side of him. In the open air, you could fool yourself into thinking you were flying. Here, most definitely, Ethan was falling.

  He pushed the button and the apparatus around his body began to hum. He closed his eyes and waited for something to happen.

  Six seconds later, he was still falling.

  Eight seconds later, he wasn’t.

  His wings did nothing, the rocket he was wearing did less, but he’d stopped falling. He looked around to see the buildings drifting down, the ground becoming distant, and he looked up to see Dr. Noble. The top hero of Siegel City, at least for the last year or two, had caught him under the arms and was carrying him upwards, away from what would probably have been assured destruction.

  Noble was your all-American superhero – he flew, he was strong, he even draped himself in the colors of the flag. As he caught Ethan, though, Ethan felt a tickle of static and the hair on his arms stood up. Noble had some considerable energy powers in his repertoire as well, and although he wasn’t throwing around energy bolts right now, there was a constant buzz in the air around him. Ethan could hear a buzz coming from the energy reservoir on his chest, which started to glow green and it didn’t stop until Noble dropped him off on the roof. The Simon Tower observation deck was closed for the evening, but Ethan was small in stature and had gotten very good at hiding in places he shouldn’t be until people were gone. Simon Tower was the hub of superhuman activity in Siegel City, but despite that the villains rarely attacked the building itself. It was strange, but for what he was trying to do, Ethan was more interested in the heroes anyway.

  “Let me guess,” Noble said, looking him over, tapping the metal wings. “You built a jetpack that’s supposed to let you fly so that you can become a superhero too.”

  Ethan stammered. “Uh… well…”

  “Oh, take off that stupid helmet.” He grabbed the shell around Ethan’s head and pulled it off, leaving a red mark on Ethan’s chin where the strap rubbed against it. He handed the helmet back. “I’ve seen it a thousand times. Let me tell you something, buddy, ninety-nine percent of the people who build something to make themselves into a Cape fail. About seventy-five percent wind up in the hospital. You want to know what happens to fifty-five percent?”

  Ethan did not.

  Noble examined the device he was wearing more closely. “You got some smarts, I can tell. If you can build something like this, you can build something that will make you rich. Why don’t you focus on something like that instead?”

  He gave a salute and floated off into the air, leaving Ethan alone. As he vanished from sight, Ethan smiled.

  “Maybe I will.”

  The encounter with Dr. Noble left Ethan a bit perplexed, but undaunted. Noble wasn’t exactly what he’d expected. On television, whenever he made a public appearance, Dr. Noble came across as the all-American corn-fed paragon that everybody wanted him to be. In person, his voice was gruff and he felt a bit dismissive. Why not, though? If movie stars and professional athletes could have a clean public image and a dirty smear underneath, why wouldn’t the same apply to superheroes?

  Back in his shop, Ethan’s attention returned to his work. The energy reservoir was reusable, of course, but the rest of his next device was completely new construction. Under his black bodysuit he wore a thin copper alloy mesh – uncomfortable against his skin, but necessary for what he was planning. A black ski mask would help protect him from the cameras, or at least slow down any investigators enough that it wouldn’t matter who he was by the time they found him.

  At 11 o’clock, he slipped out of a hiding place in the Ditko Medical Pavilion, where he’d been hiding in various supply closets and unoccupied rooms for several hours now. A fiber optic camera attached to a PDA allowed him to peek around corners and under doors, helping him avoid detection. Word was there was a failed cancer treatment that had been attempted here… failed in that it did not cure any cancerous cells, but a success in that it altered the bioelectric field of a medical researcher, giving him incredibl
e healing abilities. The device may not still be there, but even if it wasn’t, Ethan was hopeful that he would at least find some useful files he could adapt for his own experiments.

  In the end, he didn’t find the cancer treatment or any device or files related to it. He found something even better. In a glassed-off observation room was a large, blue-skinned man glowing with a cold fire. He had no idea what was wrong with the man, but if there was even the slightest chance Ethan could put it to use, he had to investigate.

  The readouts on the computer bank were a bit out of his wheelhouse, but he’d studied enough biochemistry (out of necessity) to get together a basic understanding of what he was looking at. This guy – he recognized him now as Catalyst, one of the heroes of nearby Centerville – was going through a series of bodily transformations due to an unstable metabolism. Ethan’s eyes grew wide – there had to be some way he could put that to use. If only he—

  There was an electric blue sizzle and Ethan felt a shock across his entire body. The copper mesh suddenly began to sear, and he knew he’d look like he’d fallen asleep on a grill when he took it off. After what seemed like hours, the surge of electrical power stopped and Ethan fell down to his knees. A hand grabbed the back of his shirt and lifted him up.

  “Well what have we here? Paparazzi looking for a story? Industrial thief? Or just a good old fashioned supervillain?”

  The man looked at him through a white mask that flowed down into his red-and-white costume. On his chest was a large red cross – medical, not religious – and Ethan couldn’t suppress a smile. He’d been found by STAT, the self-styled “medical marvel.” On Ethan’s chest, the energy reservoir hummed again and the display on the front shifted colors to a soft, lightning blue.