Mid-May, Year 1: “Strange Visitor (from Another Planet)”The tests on Superman stopped. I guess I won’t have to find another costume.
Clark suspected the tester (culprit, supervillain, nut-job) was Lex Luthor. Maybe. Maybe it was the government. A week after the tests ended, the government occupied The Daily Planet on a mission to find out more about “the alien.”
Clark and Lorry had published the most legit stories about Superman—all two of them. Trask, the agent leading the government task force, insisted on questioning them about Superman’s origins, habits, and, potentially, his whereabouts.
Perry blustered about rights and attorneys, but Clark agreed to the interview, or rather interrogation—he wanted to know what types of questions the government would ask (Could they know more about my origins than I do?). Lorry agreed, of course--he was always looking for a story.
It turned out that the government knew nothing. The questions were bland and uninspired. The weirdest (and most pointless) part was being hooked up to a polygraph. Clark didn’t like lying to the government—respect for large institutions kept Clark from going off the rails. But he had a fundamental distaste for fishing expeditions, which this obviously was.
 |
| Either the polygraph machine is broken . . . |
The interrogator fiddled with the machine, and Clark let his attention wander. Focusing his super-hearing, he could hear Lorry’s interview next door.
“Can Superman read thoughts?” the interrogator asked.
“I hope not,” Lorry said, a licentious smirk in his voice.
Which left Clark feeling...he had no idea. Lorry was attracted to Superman. So was everyone. Big deal. Clark couldn’t generate any personal pride in the fact. Superman was a celebrity. He could look like a rodent of unusual size and everyone would still ooh and ahh.
Even if people did find Superman attractive, Superman wasn’t Clark.
And Clark was…
According to Cat Grant, an attractive guy. Mostly, he was a guy without a planet. Adoptee extraordinaire. As Lorry had pointed out when he and Clark brainstormed article topics that morning, adopted kids searching for their biological parents was an overdone special interest story. Clark had to agree. And it wasn’t as if one story about one human kid’s hunt for his origins would answer Clark’s questions. I can fly around the world in less than an hour, but I can’t exactly step next door to find out about my birth parents.
He felt his shoulders tense, and the polygraph went haywire, eliciting muttered curses from the government agents. The operator obviously blamed the machine's strange responses on the machine being on the fritz. Whatever. It irritated Clark that he was obsessing about something that he thought he'd resolved years ago. I'll never know more about my planet, my parents, and why they sent me here. Donning the costume, including the emblem from his old baby blanket, had reminded him how "other" he was.
***
“You know Clark is gay, right?” Cat told Lorry the day after the government arrived and questioned Lorry and Clark for hours.
“Don’t antagonize them,” Perry had told Lorry. But Lorry couldn’t help poking the bear or American eagle, which irritated Trask and made him double-down on his questions. The interrogation went on and on. When Lorry finally got cut loose, Clark had left with Cat. Of course. Naturally. Cat was gorgeous and interested. She and Clark together looked like something out of a Too Hot For You modeling catalog.
Except Cat was convinced that Clark played for Lorry’s team.
“He’s an upstanding Midwestern farm boy,” Lorry told her. “Last century morality.”
“Tell me about it. All that eager need to please. Those Midwest boys make great lovers. But I’m telling you, Clark is not interested. I think he’s a one-person-for-my-whole-life type of guy, and you’re it.”
Lorry sighed. Cat was always trying to pair people up, from the cleaning lady and the copy guy (both married to other people) to Bob in Sports and Kathy in Finance (both proponents of the single lifestyle).
Clark was no more interested in Lorry than Superman was. The one thing Lorry wanted was an interview with Superman and that was no more likely to happen to him than it was to the government guy Trask.
Especially since it turned out that Trask was a rogue agent, acting without government approval (less American eagle and more American weasel). The story of Superman’s origins fizzled out.
I have got to get an interview with Superman. Trask may be crazy. I totally understand his obsession.
***
Clark was beginning to hate Superman.
Really hate the guy.
The auction that night was for Leukemia research. Case and point.
Lorry was there. And he bid on a date with Superman. For one heart-stopping moment, Clark—locked in Superman’s costume—thought Lorry might win. But Lex Luthor’s crowd was present, and some woman won an evening with Superman for more money than Lorry and Clark plus the entire news floor made in a month.
Clark sighed and made arrangements to attend a society function as Superman with the woman.
He slipped up to the roof, changed from Superman to Clark, and slipped downstairs to where the party—filled with small-talk, appetizer-offerings, and appropriate music (jazz, this time)—droned on. Clark made his way to the bar where Lorry slumped over a ginger-ale. Lorry didn’t drink at public shindigs since he liked to stay alert. Clark was grateful since Lorry’s restraint gave him an excuse not to drink; alcohol barely affected him.
Lorry threw him a wry smile. “See me get humiliated?”
“Unless you have a Cayman bank account you’ve never mentioned—”
“Yeah, I know. And it’s not like Superman is going to date a guy. Not that I was bidding for a date,” Lorry added quickly. “I want a story, you know.”
Clark was still thinking about Superman and dating; he said slowly, “Maybe Superman is afraid of revealing his true feelings.”
Lorry shook his head and Clark sighed. Yeah, you’re right, superheroes are plastic people with plastic feelings.
Lorry said glumly, “I tried to get Superman’s attention at the Key ceremony. Not a chance. Not in that crowd.”
Clark nodded. Nobody had consulted him about Metropolis offering Superman the key to the city, but then it wasn’t as if anyone in city government knew how to contact him as Superman. They advertised the affair in multiple newspapers, on local television stations and the radio instead. It would have been rude for him not to show. 
I want to help people. Not show up and get cheered.
Maybe I should have gone with a not-so-bright costume. But I wanted to be friendly. Approachable. The kind of superhero who will rescue a cat from a roof. Why not?
Clark was beginning to suspect that neither he nor his mum were all that media-savvy.
Lorry said morosely, “It would be the scoop of the century. A one on one interview.”
Clark gave him a considering look.
***
Lorry collapsed into a chair in The Daily Planet’s offices and glared at his computer screen. Maybe I should settle for writing stories about vacation spots and garden ornaments.
“Hullo,” said a deep voice that Lorry recognized even though it had been weeks since he heard it last.
He tried not to appear excited or happy or awestruck or weirded-out. You’re a reporter, Lorry. Act like one.
“Government people are looking for you,” he told the man in the costume.
“I know.”
“Omniscient, huh?”
“Not exactly.”
“You believe in God?”
“I’m pretty old-fashioned. Values-wise.”
“So a human with powers? Or—”
“Alien. From another planet. But, um, I’ve been here awhile. I like Earth. I consider it my home.”
“People can have dual citizenship.”
“I don’t, uh, know much about my planet of birth.”
The deep voice faltered, and Lorry felt a pang of sympathy.
Maybe Clark has a point about adopted kids—after all, this guy adopted an entire planet.
“Tell me more—”
