EPILOGUE
May 28-June 10, 1949
Metropolis
With the first light of dawn, Louis Lane returned quietly to his Park Avenue home, accompanied by his daughter Emily, Krypto; Clara's dog, and Pat, his wife, though only in name now. They had been stuck on the freeway for hours before receiving orders to go back home; the danger had passed. Pat had insisted on coming with him and refused to be separated from their daughter.
They put Emily to bed, then sat facing each other in what had once been the living room of their home. Pat called their families and confirmed that everyone was safe.
She stared at him.
"Where is Clara, Louis?"
"She left early this morning for Kansas. A medical matter... I don't know where she is," Louis lied, convincingly.
They fell asleep curled up together on the couch, and their daughter found them there in the morning. She had never seen her parents cuddling before.
Krypto wandered curiously around the house.
***
At the Daily Planet, Perry Weiss lit the umpteenth Cuban cigar he had smoked in the small hours of the morning. He had been in the newsroom for nearly twenty-four hours, like a captain refusing to abandon his ship. Half the staff was missing, but he knew most of them were safe.
At 2 a.m., Jimmy Olsen and his daughter Lucy arrived with photographs from Staten Island. The monster and Superwoman were barely visible in most of them. One snapshot showed an enormous ship falling from the sky into the ocean.
Perry opened the first morning edition and went over the headlines while Cat Grant, who had also spent the night in the newsroom, finished her umpteenth scotch.
NIGHT OF TERROR IN METROPOLIS
MONSTER EMERGES FROM MEREDITH ISLAND AND WREAKS HAVOC IN SOUTH BROOKLYN
SUPERWOMAN DEFEATS MONSTER AND DISAPPEARS. THOUSANDS OF LIVES SAVED BY ARMY AND SPEEDSTER FLASH
218 CONFIRMED DEAD, INCLUDING LEX LUTHOR. NEARLY 1,000 MISSING. LARGEST DISASTER IN METROPOLIS SINCE GENERAL SLOCUM FIRE
GOVERNMENT HAS NO TRACE OF MONSTER'S ORIGIN; INVESTIGATION LAUNCHED IMMEDIATELY
CHRONICLE OF THE FOUR HOURS OF PANIC ENDURED BY METROPOLIS'S TEN MILLION RESIDENTS
***
At noon, Benjamin Parker and his oldest son, Ben Jr., approached the ruins of what had been their home and neighborhood. The Army was patrolling the area and, with the help of the Flash, began clearing the rubble.
"Where is Superwoman, Dad?"
"I don't know, son, she probably needs to rest."
Tijuana
Many miles away, Baroness von Gunther crossed the Mexican border using a false Czechoslovak passport that had been issued to her only the day before. She had begun her flight at noon the previous day, after a man with a strange Slavic accent handed her a note hidden inside a matchbox outside her hotel, warning her that the U.S. Army had discovered her treason. She was offered a reunion with her brother on the other side of the Iron Curtain.
It was yet another time in her life that she had changed sides. She felt a deep sense of desperation.
She was picked up by a group of silent, Mexican-looking men in suits.
Virginia
In West Virginia, in a beautiful country house, Leda Luthor bitterly mourned the published news of her father's death, while her mother, Alice, read and reread the newspaper with an expression of deep suspicion and stupefaction.
Not far away, on the coast of Virginia, a group of military men arrested Mercy Graves at the hotel where Luthor had sent her days earlier, forcing her to hand over a series of letters and vinyl records he had given her, along with his instructions.
Kansas
Martha Kent knew her daughter, so she waited a day or two for her to reappear. When Clara had fought the Kryptonian invaders, she had disappeared for several days then as well.
On the third day, Martha became deeply concerned.
Clara, my love, where are you?
Was she in Alaska, where her daughter had some kind of sanctuary? Was she busy saving people? The newspapers and radio stations were all asking where the superheroine had gone.
Her anxiety grew. She spent her afternoons on the phone, calling her daughter's house and then her daughter's neighbors, who had not seen her since the day before the monster's arrival. She called Louis Lane's house but hung up when the phone was answered by a woman whose voice she did not recognize as Clara's. She refused to call the newspaper office.
At night she cried and turned over a photograph she had of her daughter and her husband at Clara's high school graduation. How far away 1936 seemed.
A week later, at dusk, a new car parked at the gate of her farm. The dogs approached the driver affectionately; some of them knew him very well. Pete Ross got out of the car dejectedly, and from the passenger seat emerged a silent, pregnant Lana Lang.
Martha liked them. They were good people. She had forgiven what, to her, had felt like a betrayal of her daughter. But the three of them had always been too close. A person should not have two loves, but one could become confused.
She could not blame Pete Ross for breaking off his engagement to her daughter when he discovered her powers and where they came from. Nor did she blame him when he quietly married Lana Lang after Clara left Smallville. She was aware of the pain it had caused Clara, but her daughter had always insisted that there had been no betrayal, no wrongdoing.
They made an attractive pair, and Pete had found some prosperity in the grocery business, even managing to open a second store. His smile was as wide as ever and his expression as innocent as it had always been, though he walked toward the porch door with subdued steps.
"Mrs. Kent..."
"Hi, Pete."
"We just came by to ask..."
"How Clara is?"
"Yes."
Martha sighed and looked at him sadly.
"She's fine, son."
Pete's face broke into a small smile.
"We... Lana and I... care for her very much. We still care for her very much."
Martha fought back tears.
"She's tired and busy, so don't worry. She also has deep affection for both of you."
Pete nodded and went back to the car. Lana Lang also nodded silently and followed her husband.
Late that night, the radio blared:
"The government claims to have made contact with Superwoman. This was confirmed by the Secretary of State at the UN this afternoon. The superheroine is resting and recovering and will be back in action soon. There are scenes of great joy in Metropolis and around the world."
Martha immediately knew it was a lie, and began to weep bitterly.
Metropolis
Louis Lane spent his days shrouded in darkness in his office, the curtains perpetually closed. It had been a week since he had last written an article, and even that one had focused on diplomatic tensions and some local matters, carefully avoiding any explicit mention of Superwoman. He had submitted his resignation to Perry and Cat several times, only for them to reject it each time.
He told the same lie to everyone who asked him about Clara. Clara had gone to Kansas because of a family medical matter. Nothing serious, but she was very stubborn. She trusted only one doctor, the one in her hometown. She would be back in a few days. I had authorized her trip.
Lucy Weiss and Jimmy looked at him suspiciously, and he saw fear and worry in their eyes. Perry looked at him with sadness too.
The anger and frustration were gone. He only wanted to get away… from the paper and, if possible, from Metropolis itself.
Pat had returned home temporarily. They barely spoke to each other, but after the terror of the monster, it seemed best for Emily, at least for a while. His relationship with his wife was strange, almost like that of a distant sister, or a sister-in-law caring for a widower. And yet there was a certain closeness between them now, a mutual friendliness. Louis found himself wishing he could have some kind of friendship with his former wife, as if she were the only other castaway on a desert island.
Of course, Louis thought about Clara all the time. He thought about her life, her secrets, the shadow play and double life they had maintained for nearly four years. At times, his feelings for her were a mixture of adoration and intense longing; at others, he wished he could erase her from his memory. There were moments when he felt he did not deserve Clara, and others when he hoped never to speak to Superwoman again.
He spent hours wondering whether Clara Kent was merely a façade, a role assumed by a superpowered alien. Then he spent other hours wondering whether Superwoman was the real deception, and Clara Kent the genuine person: a kind, tender-hearted, slightly headstrong woman from a Kansas farm, forced by extraordinary circumstances to play the role of a deity amid the chaos of the century.
The third drawer of Clara's desk, filled with letters, remained unopened. He was afraid to read Clara's confessions. He longed for her return, believing that her presence would settle everything, even if it meant distancing himself from her. Then at least the outcome would be clear. If she did not return, he feared he would remain trapped forever, scarred by time.
The entire office was filled with her. With her presence. With the presence of both of them. Of Clara. Of Superwoman. His mind still could not bring itself to unite them into one. All those excuses… flirtatious and absurd. All those moments when Clara had vanished, only to reappear later, sometimes with a playful smile, adjusting her glasses. All those naïve, almost dismissive comments about the superheroine. Had it all been a game to her? Had pretending to be human been fun for her? It couldn't be. Clara had to be real.
There had been that time when they had both been tied to a chair with ropes by what remained of a dockworkers' mob. The rope had snapped by chance, or so he had believed then. How many games? How many deceptions? And love? If the naïve, absent-minded, clumsy, stubborn Clara had only been a disguise, a game, had the passionate love between them been a game as well? Did the woman he loved truly exist, or was she merely another mask… as he now stubbornly insisted, almost out of spite?
A photograph of the two of them interviewing District Attorney Hedge, Clara's hostile gaze visible behind her glasses. An old notebook from the autumn of 1945. Dozens of discarded drafts for his introduction to his interview with Superwoman. One of them read: "She was born in a solar system far from the familiar confines of our planetary home. A refugee from a disaster on a cosmic scale. Yet from the debris of this catastrophe, Superwoman thinks, hope rose like the phoenix from the flame."
Too emphatic, he had crossed it out.
A strange phone call from Bruce Wayne, asking about Clara, had reached Louis. He had repeated the same falsehoods he told everyone else, all the while wondering whether Bruce Wayne might be Batman, or perhaps the Flash. It mattered little to him.
Louis found himself visiting church every day, wrestling with the desire to confess but uncertain of his sins.
Cat Grant cautiously entered his office.
"My dear Louis, you look as if you're hiding."
"No, I'm just... Well... I've resigned several times."
"You're breaking Perry's heart. He loves you like a son, and he thinks that if you focus on reporting, you'll be the best at the paper, along with me and Clara."
Cat sat on the edge of his desk and took his hand.
"Don't disappear completely. Accept the position of deputy editor of the weekly World. The weekly is pure politics and diplomacy. You love those things. Forget reporting, but stay close to us. You won't die from writing a little now and then, and you won't have to come through this office. Alina is a good friend of yours and mine, but she has to find her way. She's a Russian who has been drifting around England and France for thirty years. She needs to adapt to America. She'll be an excellent editor for World, but you have to help her."
"I'll think about it."
"Your father is still a shareholder in this newspaper, even if it's only a small stake, and you're still part of the family. You have Perry's complete confidence, and mine."
Cat looked sadly at Clara's desk.
"What do you know about the Woman of the Year?"
"She's fine... She's still in Kansas..."
Cat looked at him gently, obviously not believing him.
"Is she coming back from Kansas?"
"I hope so."
"What if she doesn't come back?"
"That would be a problem for everyone."
Cat snorted in disgust.
"She can't leave. If she comes back, she has to stay, of course. We need her here. Perry would go up in flames if you both left at the same time. He has signed off on her promotion to senior reporter as soon as she walks through that door. I promise not to be monstrous to her. I'll give her the freedom and leeway you've given her."
"I don't think she and I... That's over..."
Cat got up and walked around the office.
"Women and men are very complicated. You know my... condition. In some ways, we may have similar problems. And of course, I don't understand love perfectly either. Love is a very difficult thing. You and Perry are the only ones here who know how hard it has been for me. Leading a double life for love is not easy at all, nor is feeling sick."
"No one thinks of you as sick, Cat."
"I think of myself that way. So does practically all of society. And maybe they're right."
"Don't be silly, Cat, please. Perry and I would never..."
"What I mean is that I've lied and led a double life for love. People do many things for love, even things bigger than lying."
Cat, you know the truth... You know it perfectly well. It's obvious. Anyone with two eyes and a little attention would find out... What an embarrassment.
"Cat..."
"We chase shadows, but we are shadows too. An Argentine writer said that when I was in Buenos Aires last year. I liked it. Clara is a good girl... and a great woman. And you are a good man. If it can't be, it can't be, but let's try to stay in the same boat, don't you think?"
"I agree."
"For me, it's a relief that it's Clara... Well, that Clara is the way she is," Cat said cautiously.
Louis raised his hand to stop the conversation. Cat nodded.
"Well, I'll try to make her feel comfortable and free. I'll treat her like a silly, rebellious country girl now and then, just so she doesn't run wild and remembers to stay discreet. I'm going to leave her in this office. I know she needs privacy and a big window. And I'll keep Katz and Mailer from bothering her too much. Maybe I'll have Ronald Troupe take over your subjects."
"That's fine with me."
"Well, let's go to Perry and explain it to him. Remember, you're a son to him."
They both left the office.
Far away, Venus, Solar System
Superwoman flew across the hot, gaseous atmosphere of Venus. She had been traveling through space for several days, receiving more direct sunlight than she had ever received in her life. She was hungry, tired, sleepy; she had never held her breath for so long. But the closer she came to the sun, the stronger she felt, and the less she needed to hold her breath. The Maid of Might could also move faster.
Those days had been strange for her, like a dream. The Woman of Steel doubted she had been awake or conscious for the entire journey. It was strange to propel herself through space. It was not exactly flying; it was more like swimming or gliding. All her wounds had healed, but some scars remained on her hands and body. She had always taken pride in the perfection of her skin, but now she was proud of those wounds as well.
She was still pushing, or dragging, the corpse of the monster that had not been her doomsday after all. It seemed to have frozen during the journey through space.
Superwoman felt as if a long time had passed, as if everything had acquired an enormous logic of its own, and most of all, she felt calm and at peace with herself. She felt a strange warmth and gratitude, and pride in having done her duty. She wanted to go home to Earth, but she was at peace.
Venus was a scorching, desert-like place, filled with a strange yellowish light, fire, and storms. Hell must be like this place.
Flying over the surface of Venus was not unlike flying over Earth, although she felt a little lighter here. Her suit was half undone, and she felt embarrassed, though fortunately no one could see her.
A mountain was throwing lightning and strange fire. Superwoman flew over it. The mountain was a volcano. She could see a pit of fire below. The monster's body was softening and deforming.
Without even looking at it, she threw the creature's body into the volcano, which seemed to devour it indifferently. She stared at the flames for several minutes.
Teke-Li-Li...
What could that mean?
It's over. I must go home.
Like a bolt of lightning, she took off, and within seconds, as if she were a particle of light, she found herself outside Venus, reaching toward the sun in the middle of space. She had never felt so strong, so light, so at peace.
Time to go back.
She pushed herself to full speed. Space lost its shape. Everything became a tunnel of blurred light, interspersed with memories of her own life and desires, but she knew she would find her way home eventually.
Smallville, Kansas, June 10, 1949
Martha was walking the dogs in the field as she watched the sunset. She carried a Bible, a photo album, and a portable lamp. The evening was warm, and the cicadas were chirping.
She thought about sitting by a tree that Joe had cut down many years ago, after Clara had accidentally split its trunk while jumping. Martha was still sad and nervous. Where could her daughter be?
She turned automatically toward the house, and on the second floor, in Clara's bedroom, she saw a light on.
"Clara!" Martha screamed at the top of her lungs, running toward the house and knocking over the lamp, while the dogs followed her, barking.
Before she reached the house, Clara appeared before her, dressed in a simple nightgown, levitating in the air.
"My dear Ma!"
"My daughter... Where have you been?"
"I had to recover and get rid of the monster, far away from here... I'll tell you everything."
Mother and daughter embraced, both of them crying.
***
Hours later, Clara was in the Fortress of Solitude, sitting on a cyclopean metal stool while Kelex buzzed around her, repairing her Superwoman costume and cape.
"Soon it will be ready, Milady."
"Who taught you to talk like that, Kelex? How many radio shows do you listen to each day?" Superwoman tried to sound amused. In many ways, the robot was a companion.
"Sixty-seven, from fourteen countries, Milady."
"And why Milady?"
Kelex did not answer. The robot concentrated on emitting a kind of laser that replicated the texture of the fabric near a tear in her suit or cape. Soon the supersuit was fully repaired and shinier than ever. Superwoman extended her cape and looked at her reflection in a wall as dark as obsidian, which served as a mirror.
"Kelex, please bring me up to date on the events of the past two weeks."
The robot began a rambling summary of everything it had picked up over the radio. Kelex had learned almost every language on Earth by listening to broadcasts and translating them into Kryptonian, but its construction of human speech sometimes sounded strange.
In the superheroine's absence, diplomatic tensions between America and its allies and the USSR had reached a breaking point, as had crime. The government was accused of lying about Superwoman's status and about the origin of the monster, which had been blamed on negligence in a private, illegal experiment by the late Lex Luthor.
"Lex Luthor, dead?"
"That is what the radio said, Milady."
Clara could not believe it.
"Kelex... Do the words Teke-Li-Li mean anything in Kryptonian?"
"Yes, Milady. They mean The Eternal Course. It is a popular phrase from Krypton's past, from the era of space exploration, between fifty and eight thousand years before the destruction of Krypton. The motto later fell into disuse. It refers to the Kryptonians' manifest destiny to dominate all species in the universe and spread to the stars. To their duty to colonize, conquer, multiply, and know the entire universe."
Teke-Li-Li... The Eternal Course.
"Thank you, Kelex. You can go back to listening to the radio, dear."
Superwoman looked thoughtfully at the robot. Kelex, lacking human-like features, had strange, cyclopean forms. Yet there was something unexpectedly tender about him, and she found herself feeling a warm affection for that metallic echo of Krypton. The robot seemed genuinely to relish listening to the radio, and it had mastered the art of reading books and retaining their contents. Perhaps one day she could share Kelex and his vast knowledge with Earth's scientists.
"Milady, while reviewing my files, I saw that Teke-Li-Li was also used before the great age of space colonization. Some philosophical or religious schools identified it with a benevolent life purpose, directed both toward others and toward oneself, and with philanthropy. The records are few, very ancient, and confusing, but it seems the phrase was also used by factions at war with one another, though with different aims. By my time, and by the time of your parents, it had been completely forgotten; it even belongs to another dialect."
Who had that creature been, the one mutated by that strange liquid, groaning in pain: Teke-Li-Li? Had it been a supporter of space colonization, of enslaving or exterminating humans? Or had it been one of those Kryptonians who had come to fight alongside humanity?
Teke-Li-Li.
The phrase distressed her because of its double meaning. Because of its double history. Duplicity. Everything about Krypton carried the burden of duplicity. So did Earth. So did she. She, too, was two things, two women, though she was not sure which two.
The image of Krypton… Its culture, its written signs, its history, which for almost three years she had tried to push away, suddenly became clear. She felt immense sadness, and once again the shame of having rejected her inheritance, mingled with horror at the part of Krypton she hated, the desire to be human, and pride in the very symbol she wore on her chest.
She felt an immense sorrow for the lives that had been lost, for all that nature, history, culture, and art nearly erased from existence. Only the Memory of Kelex endured, and she herself. But Kala-El felt she had been a poor daughter of Krypton. If she could bear, or perhaps simply avert her eyes from, the duplicity of Earth and her own, why could she not do the same for Krypton? She longed, with an almost childlike ache, to feel Jor-El and Lara's arms around her, something no hologram could ever give her. If Krypton had been a liquid or a vapor, she would have wished, in that moment, to wrap herself in it and disappear.
If Zod had awakened in her a profound revulsion toward the world of her birth, another monster, not wholly unlike him, had made her yearn to reclaim it, to save it, if only within herself. How could all of it be reconciled? Was such a thing even possible?
"Kelex, could you please activate a projection of Krypton?"
It had been more than a year since she had made such a request. The robot obeyed and immediately projected the planet. Superwoman stepped closer to the image.
None of this is alien to me.
The weight of her inheritance materialized behind her. She tried to counter Zod, and the monster she had defeated, with the thousands of things she knew about Krypton and about her parents. With the things she had once learned to love but then had tried to forget.
Kala-El felt confused. Perhaps she needed to pray, to that God she believed had revealed Himself as a cross to her parents, Joe and Martha, and as a golden disc to her parents, Jor and Lara.
"Could you also activate my parents, please? I want to walk with them."
Hours later Superwoman left the Fortress of Solitude and took off at superspeed, thinking again of the phrase the monster had spoken before it died.
Teke-Li-Li... The Eternal Course...
Zod had also used that phrase during his confrontation with her.
And Luthor?
Was he really dead?
***
Radio broadcasts around the world reported Superwoman's return, along with her many rescues and appearances. Her first rescue was helping a Girl Scout trapped in a canyon in Wyoming; she scolded the girl gently and took her back to her hometown. Then came muggings and accidents, humanitarian missions, a landslide in Ethiopia, and a fishing-boat wreck off Portugal. In the wee hours of the morning, spinning like a top at super speed, she formed a whirlwind and carried into the stratosphere all the horrible London smog that had been overwhelming the hospitals. Everywhere she went, she was greeted with applause and glowing looks of gratitude. She felt happy and fulfilled.
Superwoman's return scuttled Stalin's plans for increased military and diplomatic pressure, and the U.S. delegation walked away from the negotiating table over the status of Romania and Poland. Many criminals had been convinced that the superheroine would not return, and Superwoman found she had more work to do than ever since her red-caped beginnings. She flew around the world nonstop for twenty-four hours, helping anyone in need. Then she flew to Washington, D.C., to speak with the President.
***
Superwoman listened in shock and sadness as President Truman explained that she had been completely unaware of Luthor's plans and actions.
"It is a matter of national security, Mrs. Kala-El, and of protecting our democracy. It is the greatest betrayal our country has faced in the last century. If the truth became known, paranoia about espionage would become total, and our entire intelligence and technological effort would collapse. The political atmosphere would become unbreathable, and we would be forced into a much more open confrontation with the USSR. We are using Luthor's betrayal to pressure the Soviet government toward a peaceful solution in Eastern Europe, and we have stopped almost all experiments involving Kryptonian elements or technology. We are willing to sign treaties with the USSR to halt the arms race and all research into alien technology with offensive intent. If we can bring Stalin to the negotiating table, perhaps joint working groups can be formed for the space race, and to guarantee the right of self-determination for the countries of Eastern Europe."
"One thousand people died, Mr. President. One thousand. And millions could have died."
"Fortunately, you were there to prevent it."
"Luthor is being held illegally! The truth is being hidden from the American people and from the world!"
"To avoid chaos, war, and death. Truth and peace are two different things."
"Luthor deserves a fair and public trial!"
"He will receive one. Under the laws of national security and war. Luthor is a colonel in a foreign army, as far as we know, and has held a Soviet passport for four years. He is being treated as a prisoner of war of the highest sensitivity."
"This is a perversion of the law!"
"Mrs. El, are you a lawyer?" the President asked in a mocking tone. "From the bottom of my heart, I thank you for what you are doing. But we need your help with more than killing alien monsters. Help us broker peace with the Russians. Help us avoid wars... The government is willing to shoulder part of the blame. We will cover half the compensation for the victims, acknowledging that allowing Luthor, an 'irresponsible' man, to conduct dangerous experiments was a failure on our part. TELCORP will be dismantled, broken into smaller entities, and our entire approach to alien technology and organic remains will change."
He paused, his gaze sharpening.
"You now know the truth. But do not tell me how to run my country. You must understand that nothing is easy. Not even your super-hearing detected Luthor's betrayal. If saving lives and preserving peace are what you desire, but you want it on your own terms…then take my place. Run for office."
Superwoman bowed her head, doubt clouding her features.
"I have something for you, Mrs. El," the President continued, signing a document with a flourish before sealing it. "This is your authorization to visit Luthor in prison. Let this show you the level of trust I am placing in you. But do not be reckless. You are a citizen, bound by the same duties and rights as everyone else."
He handed her the paper, his warning lingering in the air.
***
Superwoman descended into a barren stretch of Nebraska, to the remote location the President had instructed her to find. It took her some time to locate it: a small, isolated military base set in the middle of nowhere. The soldiers had plainly been expecting her, yet their reception left her uneasy. She felt at once wounded and insulted as the guards pointed her out to one another, as though she were some anomaly to be observed rather than a figure they had once trusted.
Before long, the Woman of Steel was met by the base commander, who greeted her with stiff formality.
"I have already spoken with the President," he said, his face unreadable as he examined the sealed letter.
She entered in silence, met at every turn by the suspicious glances of the soldiers, looks she could not quite understand.
So this is how the government has chosen to redefine our relationship, she thought sorrowfully.
As Superwoman moved farther into the base, her eyes came to rest on a barbed-wire enclosure in one corner. Inside it, incongruously, stood a neat row of flowerpots, small and fragile against the surrounding desolation.
And there, unmistakably, was Luthor.
He was not dressed in prison clothes, but in casual summer attire: pegged trousers and a plain white shirt. Superwoman stepped toward the fence, her gaze fixed on him.
Without fully turning, Luthor cast a sideways glance in her direction, acknowledging her presence with a silent, knowing look.
"I was wondering when you'd show up." Luthor greeted her with his sardonic smile.
"I warned you many times that you'd end up in prison, Luthor." Superwoman's voice sounded tired. Speaking to Luthor stirred in her more sorrow than anger.
Luthor turned with a mischievous expression.
"This, Kala-El, is not a prison. It's an illegal detention center. I am a missing person. I was arrested in violation of my constitutional rights, denied a fair trial, and treated like a secret foreign prisoner of war. All while lying to the world about my whereabouts and my death, and lying to my family... Is this the American way?"
"You caused the deaths of hundreds of people... They say you are a traitor. I believe them"
"Of course you believe them. It is convenient for you to believe them. Perhaps they are right. I have betrayed their hopes, and all their ridiculous little commitments. The United States of America is an administrative accident and a productive unit. It is stupid to be loyal to it... I am a patriot of humanity."
"You could have killed millions."
Luthor looked at her thoughtfully.
"That is a price I was willing to pay. You, unless someone stops you, will be directly or indirectly responsible for many more millions of deaths and ultimately the extinction of mankind or all that is good about being human."
Clara was frustrated by Luthor's cruelty and harshness.
"You understand nothing, Luthor, absolutely nothing... A man as brilliant as you, and with so many supposedly good feelings... How did you descend into all this madness and become an outlaw and a mass murderer?"
Luthor turned back to the flowerpots.
"You feign love, philanthropy, all those noble sentiments, and ask me why people had to die, as though you did not know that the central conflict has always been you. I wanted only your death. That is worth attempting at nearly any cost. I do not follow your rules or your lies. You claim to stand for love, truth, justice and the American way... But you stand here before me and allow a citizen, no matter how criminal in theory, to be deprived of a fair trial to which he is entitled by law. You allow obscene lies to be told to the entire American people and all the peoples of the World... In any case your own life is a lie. You probably lie to yourself, too many remnants of a human education. But sooner or later you will understand the truth and you will understand that you are not one of us and you'll never be. You will understand that we are not compatible. I only hope my fellow humans are ready for that day."
Luthor smiled as he saw a tear fall from one of Superwoman's deep blue eyes.
"They won't kill me, Kala-El, and they won't send me back to the USSR. They need me, I know you best, I know your kind best. I lost control, some incompetent Soviets let themselves be captured and left me unprotected. The alternative was to end up here immediately or to end up here and try before taking one last shot to finish you off. And I almost succeeded. I was half an hour away from bombarding you with the Pathogen..."
"What is the Pathogen?" Superwoman asked him in an authoritative voice that hid some fear.
"Oh... They didn't tell you. That's a good sign!"
He's provoking me, he just wants to provoke me.
"Kala-El, they know in Washington and Moscow alike that eventually they will have to do something about you. They will continue to work on it. I am being punished here because I have broken their bureaucratic rules and outdated loyalties. But I know you best. I haven't even told them your secret identity, that little game of double life you cling to so tightly. It's my life insurance. They have a psychological profile of me; they know I'm physically weak but mentally strong. Torture would be useless; I would die or be useless before I could speak. Kala-El's "human" identity is my little secret; it will be until they present me with a good plan to protect humanity and get you out of our lives."
"You'll never get out of here, Luthor." Superwoman no longer had any desire to speak with a man so vicious in his cruelty, and so willfully blind.
Luthor laughed.
"I am the man in the iron mask," Luthor said, his voice calm, almost indifferent. "Getting out of here isn't as important as you might think."
"I pity you, Luthor," Superwoman said softly, her gaze steady. "You're consumed by hate and fear, trapped in a warped, delusional understanding of love, love for others, for humanity. In many ways, you are far less human than I am. You've alienated yourself from all of us."
She paused; her voice tinged with sorrow. "I believe in forgiveness, in redemption. I'll pray for you. You'll have plenty of time to reflect on the destruction you've caused and the lives you've taken. May you come to understand, repent, and find peace."
Superwoman's expression softened further as she added, "I'll visit you from time to time. You're not insane, Luthor... And I hope, despite everything, you're not a monster either. Think, reflect, and find your way to repentance."
Luthor tried to play a contemptuous laugh but was left with an awkward grimace. Superwoman looked at him with infinite sadness. The soldiers were keeping a safe distance.
"Kala-El, don't forget that you are complicit in an illegal detention and disappearance, and a great lie to the American people and the entire world."
Superwoman turned her back on him and took off noisily. She was lost in the heights.
Moscow, KGB Headquarters, June 12, 1949
In an austere white room, a man in a general's uniform handed out folders to civilians and military personnel.
"Here is the report on the event in Metropolis two weeks ago and the return of the creature known as Superwoman, or how we prefer to call her, Super-Lackey."
"What do we know about Luthor?" another uniformed man interrupted.
"Arrested by his government at an undisclosed location. In any case, we must forget about him."
"He is a colonel of the Soviet Army and was our best agent. We have never had an agent so well positioned in the high spheres of the enemy. Thanks to him we have the atomic bomb, a working principle for the hydrogen bomb, and we know the specific state of all American research in alien technology and biology," A fat but elegantly dressed civilian interrupted.
"But no doubt, because of his upbringing and psychiatric problems, he had obvious limitations that we were unable to detect in time. He was a romantic, hysterical, egomaniacal bourgeois… Basically Hitler with considerably more intelligence and no racial prejudices. He was never properly educated in socialism. He had too much power and autonomy to be a loyal agent. I warned you far too often of his volatile and passionate nature." A serious man in a colonel uniform countered.
"I agree with Colonel Melkov. We want someone in the Politburo to take responsibility...Who had the fantastic idea of sending the body of a living Kryptonian we took from the Americans back to Luthor in Metropolis? We lost a useful agent, however deranged, and a first-rate offensive weapon. The logical thing to do would have been to keep the body and get Luthor's extraction," The intervention of this civilian startled everyone in the room. He was talking about responsibilities.
"Luthor did not want to be extracted, it is one of his inconsistencies and hysterics. And we lack the technology and raw materials to experiment on the body of a living Kryptonian, Luthor had it." The colonel spoke again.
"It is an unforgivable mistake. We were as impatient and hysterical as Luthor."
"The Americans are still working on weapons to neutralize Superwoman. They never know when she might turn against them. She is an alien, after all."
"In this connection, I want you to know that we have sent to Metropolis one of our best agents, Ballerina, who served us so well in the war and in the 1930s, and who is an excellent spy in reactionary circles. Harold, another of our jewels, has just arrived in Washington."
"What will Ballerina do?"
"Watching people Luthor has identified as part of Superwoman's entourage or interest. We are very close to discovering her secret identity and therefore her weaknesses, the human factor of the Superwoman case."
"If there is any human factor there… I have my doubts…"
"We already have Baroness Von Gunther in Moscow. We are all repulsed by fascists, but she is a brilliant scientist, and she has a great deal of information about American technological efforts that complements the information Luthor has sent us."
"That's all well and good, but I think the priority is to discuss the radio signals we're receiving from space, from a place we've calculated to be near Titan. The possible presence of more aliens is a matter of the utmost gravity, and we need a containment plan. I think we must deal with this radio signal problem on a planetary scale and not from a political point of view. We must convince Comrade Stalin to share this information with the Americans. There must be no repeat of 1946, nor can we rely on Super-Lackey..."
Planet Building, Metropolis, June 11, 1949
Louis Lane nervously read the front page of the newspaper…
SUPERWOMAN RETURNS!
A full-length photograph of the superheroine flying above the crowd filled the rest of the front page. Louis felt a wave of relief. When he had heard the news of Clara's return on the radio, he had secretly wept for the first time since the liberation of Dachau. The whole city seemed overcome with joy. At the newspaper, Lucy Weiss and Jimmy Olsen's almost excessive delight made him suspect that they knew the same thing he did. But anger and fear soon found their way back to him. He did not want to see her. He was happy she had returned, grateful beyond words, but he did not want to face her or speak to her. And yet he had to. It would be a bitter thing to endure, but once it was done, perhaps he could finally be at peace.
Lane heard a few greetings outside the office, followed by a familiar voice.
Clara was there. His heart skipped a beat. Then he heard Cat Grant.
"Lucky thing Superwoman got back before you did, Clara. Louis told us it was some doctor business. What did the quack have to say?"
"Oh, it was nothing serious. I'd only frightened myself with a few articles about heart disease. My dear father had a heart condition, you know, and I wanted my doctor to put my mind at ease."
"The least hypochondriac woman in the world," Katz interrupted dryly.
"Actually," Cat replied, putting on a mock-scholarly voice, "it is universally agreed that the worst patients are, and always will be, men. That is why Molière's The Imaginary Invalid has a man in the title role."
Clara slipped away; she was also very nervous. With her x-ray vision she could see that Louis was standing in his office, dejected. She had too many mixed emotions. The man she loved; the man who had, almost alone, thundered against Superwoman in print and on the radio; the man she had lied to for nearly four years, and who, in the midst of chaos, only days earlier, had returned her love.
Clara sighed and went in. She did not know whether to throw herself into his arms, which was what she wanted most, or face the conversation they still had not had. She knew Louis. He had the defects of his virtues: beneath his jovial, self-assured façade, he was rigid, guarded, and deeply mistrustful. Louis looked at her with kindness and some distance. She was wearing a cream suit, an orange silk shirt, a dark ribbon in her hair and a hummingbird brooch. She was not quite aware of the look of love and longing she was giving him. Clara shut the door behind her.
"You're back." Louis said in a low voice.
"Yes." Clara exhaled.
"I'm glad to see you." There seemed to be a note of emotion in Louis's voice, something extraordinarily rare in him.
Clara rushed towards Louis, longing to kiss him, but he stopped her with a sweet gesture on her shoulders and instead gave her a short, light kiss on the cheek. Clara felt enormous pressure in her heart.
Silence dominated the office for a few seconds. Finally, Louis spoke with aplomb.
"Not now. I'm just so happy you're back, and I need to know how you are. I think we need to talk, Clara, but perhaps later, when you're calmer and more settled... Please, tell me everything. The whole world was waiting for you."
"I'm fine Louis, I had to go far away to recover from my wounds and make sure that the monster was completely eliminated," Clara replied in a voice that was too high-pitched and filled with anguish.
"Please lower your voice… I'm happy to hear that."
"And you?"
"I... I'm leaving the paper today." Louis said it as though it were a terrible confession.
"How?" Clara nearly shouted.
"I'm going to be the deputy editor at WORLD magazine; same publisher, same building. I'll still report to Perry, but I won't be as involved. It's just a transition period. I'll be writing opinion columns for a season, until Alina Baristova-Baker, the new editor from Paris, gets more settled in."
Clara's chin trembled.
"What about me?"
"Perry and Cat have some very good news for you; I can tell you. You're a senior reporter now, with this office all to yourself. Cat is going to give you very few orders... You're going to keep your autonomy."
"I mean us." A deeply buried anger, anger at so many things, crushed for days beneath other feelings, rose from somewhere deep inside Clara.
Don't do this to me, please, you stupid man, you said you loved me, that it didn't matter...
Louis looked at her with a sorrowful expression and turned away.
"I think everything is very difficult and confusing right now. We both need to think. We need time. Please. I need you to understand how enormous this is for me."
"Louis, you said you loved me. You said it didn't matter!"
Louis reached out and took her hand.
"Keep your voice down, for God's sake."
"What happened these past few days? Didn't you miss me? Weren't you worried about me?"
"These past few days have been hell. I haven't stopped thinking about you."
"Don't you love me?"
"Yes, I love you, but…"
"But what? You had to comfort me because I had to kill a monster? Because I just saved your life?"
"I'm begging you, Clara…"
"Then what is it?"
Please don't, Louis. You still don't understand. Don't do this to me.
Clara, I don't know who you are. I don't know who you are. I can't. I can't bear it.
"Clara, right now I don't know who I love. I don't know exactly who you are… or what you need. I'm not even sure I'm the right person to stand beside you."
"Louis, everything I've done…"
"Clara, I don't blame you for anything. Nothing at all. I'm not even sure what you've been doing all these years can truly be called lying. But for God's sake, try to understand who you are. All these years, I've…"
"I am exactly the same woman. The same… I am Clara Kent. I am always Clara Kent. There isn't a moment of the day when I am not Clara Kent. Superwoman is only what I do. The duty I must fulfill."
Clara said it with composure, but without any real conviction. She was not even sure that what she was saying was still true.
"I need Clara Kent," Louis said, trying to sound conciliatory. "But I don't understand Superwoman. The world, on the other hand… the world does need Superwoman."
"Of course the world needs Superwoman," Clara replied, her voice low but fierce. "Unfortunately, it does. I can't stop helping people. I can't stop being Superwoman. You cannot possibly be suggesting something as monstrous as asking me to stop fulfilling my duty."
"I didn't ask you to."
"It is my eternal course…"
"Excuse me?"
"I said that being Superwoman, helping others, is my eternal course…"
Tears streamed down her face, and Clara felt as though she had finally understood something she had refused to understand for a very long time.
"Yes," Louis said quietly. "Perhaps it is. Perhaps it cannot be otherwise. I can be with Clara Kent. I can give myself to her. But I cannot live my life sharing Superwoman with the world. I am mortal, Clara. I cannot live beside a goddess."
"I'm mortal too… Or did you forget that monster nearly killed me?"
"Clara, I…"
"Please, read my letters. Read them. You know where to find them. I don't want to talk anymore. I can't. Read them. Please. There are too many things to say, and right now I'm tired and upset. All these years…"
"All these years," Louis said, "we've been in love in silence, while you kept from me the fact that you were the super-powered being I denounced every week in print and on the radio as a danger to the world."
"And what did you expect me to do?"
"I told you, I don't blame you for anything. But this is not an easy thing to find our way out of. We need time. And nothing guarantees that we will succeed."
Clara wiped away her tears, unable to tell whether she was angry at Louis, at herself, at the red cape hidden beneath her clothes, at the world itself, or simply hurt and disappointed.
She had not thought much about Louis during those last days in space. At last, she had taken him for granted: as a pillar, as a support, as a refuge of love and acceptance, much as her mother had always been. Her legs trembled with the pain of his rejection; a rejection she knew, deep down, was not entirely unjust. How could she ask anyone to help her bear her burden? How could she ask anyone to erase four years of lies? And yet, at the same time, she felt that she deserved it. That she deserved that help. That she deserved that forgiveness.
Cat Grant unexpectedly opened the door.
"My dear Atalanta and Hippomenes, Alina is here. Please come out to greet her."
Louis left the office in a single stride and shut the door behind him.
Clara wiped away her tears, cleaned her glasses, and repaired her makeup as best she could before stepping back into the newsroom.
At the center of the room, a small crowd had gathered around a remarkably elegant woman in an enormous hat. She looked a little older than Clara. Her face was round, almost girlish, like a doll's, but her green eyes were feline and sharp. Every strand of her hair was hidden beneath the hat, which looked like an overextended turban. Perry Weiss was kissing her hand.
"Alina, dear, this is Miss Clara Kent. I would call her one of our young promises, but she has already more than fulfilled the promise. Clara, this is Mrs. Alina Baristova-Baker, the new editor of WORLD magazine."
Clara held out her hand with a faint smile.
"No hands, chérie. I am Russian and English, but educated in France, so you must give me two kisses. I have been told you are a truly wonderful lady."
Alina kissed her twice on the cheek. She pronounced every word as if performing it, now leaning into a French accent, now into something Russian, now, inexplicably, into something almost Scottish. Clara found herself rather intimidated by the sheer operatic force of Alina's entrance.
Alina then seized Louis by the cheeks. "I have known this young man since he arrived in Paris in 1933. Later, I joined him in Spain, in 1936 and 1937. Perhaps we had better leave that chapter closed, my dear? Franco's Nationalists could not quite understand that a Russian Jewess…a white émigrée, yes, but a very beautiful one, and an American Jew, despite his Catholic baptism, might have some sympathy for them. They nearly shot us in Santander. Such discourtesy."
A few people smiled uneasily.
"We have all been tossed about, no? The world is very loco-loco," Alina continued, beaming.
A burst of flattering laughter followed.
"Alina was in the anti-Nazi Resistance in France," Perry announced to the room.
"Oh, please. The war caught me in Paris while I was trying on evening gowns, and I failed to escape to London. Captain Baker took advantage of the situation to get rid of me, and I had a few modest adventures. Perry exaggerates. I delivered letters once or twice. Mostly I hid from the Vichy swine in a basement and wrote a war diary."
"It is one of the bestsellers in France," Perry added.
"How is General de Gaulle, Alina?" someone asked.
"He is such a gentleman, such a handsome man, such a good father. I cannot wait for him to come back to power and sweep the Communists out with a broom. At present, the three greatest men in the world are General de Gaulle, the Pope, and Ben-Gurion. Now, which one of you gentlemen is taking me to the best restaurants and bars in Metropolis? Di libe iz zis, nor zi iz gut mit broyt!"
Perry roared with laughter, lighting a cigar as he answered her in Yiddish.
"Cat, I didn't know you had a lost European twin sister," Clara ventured.
Nobody laughed at her joke.
Lucy Weiss caught Clara by the arm. Only then did she seem to realize that Clara was back.
"You make me the happiest woman in the world by being here again," Lucy whispered. "And don't listen to that parrot. She's an eccentric friend of Louis and Cat's, some creature from the French conservatism. She got the WORLD job because she knows half the politicians in London and Paris."
"I have so much to tell you," Clara murmured.
"I know. I know…"
Clara's super-hearing caught Alina speaking softly to Louis.
"I am very much looking forward to working with you, my ochi chyornye. You have not written to me in months. You are a very absent-minded boy. Oh, and Kim Philby is in Washington now, First Secretary at the Embassy. He is terribly eager to see you and all the Angleton boys. He grows funnier and more charming by the day."
Before Louis could answer, an editor burst into the room.
"The Toyman has escaped! Nobody knows how. Some damned tunnel into the pipes. They can't find him!"
A murmur of astonishment ran through the newsroom.
"Who is the Toyman?" asked Alina.
"A psychopath," Louis replied. "He used to be an inventor and entrepreneur, but during the Great Depression, he lost his mind and turned into a serial killer. He's been in prison for over fifteen years now. He's the one who hid explosives inside toys, killing dozens of people."
"Ah, what a lot of colorful characters you have here in Metropolis. It is going to be a very funny life," Alina was nearly laughing.
My eternal course...
Clara slipped out and went to her office, quickly making sure no one noticed… But she could sense a discreet and sad glance from Louis. Clara closed the door behind her, removed her hair tie and let her curl fall over her forehead. Then, she took off her glasses and jacket as she opened her shirt to reveal her blue tights and the red and gold crest of the House of El. She pulled down her stockings and skirt as she unfolded her red cape. Clara looked at herself in the windowpane for a moment. She looked strong and beautiful, despite her look of sadness.
Up, up, and away!
The Woman of Steel opened the window and flew into the sky to descend upon the prison from which the Toyman had escaped.
Joy was returning to her heart.
This is a job for Superwoman!
POST SCRIPTUM
(Selected dropheads from the Daily Planet)
July 18th, 1949
"Superwoman spotted with a strange man in armor and trident off the coast of Peru, rescuing ships during a storm."
August 9th, 1949
"Superwoman Makes First Official Visit to Soviet Union, Accompanied by Secretary of State".
August 13, 1949
"Leda Luthor, universal heir to Lex Luthor, succeeds in stopping the expropriation of TELCORP and accuses the government of engineering the Meredith Island experiment that created the monstrous creature."
September 7, 1949
"Gotham District Attorney Harvey Dent arrests Commissioner Gordon and 27 other police officers on charges of criminal association with the Batman. New York District Attorney Morgan Edge says Superwoman may also face criminal charges."
September 16, 1949
"Major Louis Lane, winner of the Pulitzer Prize, former Daily Planet reporter and deputy director of World Magazine, joins as advisor the Un-American Activities Committee. Major Lane enters the Committee claiming respect for civil rights in the investigations and accusing Alger Hiss of espionage."
October 20, 1949
"TOYMAN'S LETTER. After months of disappearance, the Toyman announces his terrible revenge on the citizens of Metropolis. The city is on high alert."
November 6, 1949
"The governments of the USSR and the U.S. admit that they have received extraterrestrial signals which they have been unable to decipher. Superwoman has been invited to assist in their understanding."