Chapter 6: The People Who Watch the Clock
High above Earth, floating in the quiet black where sunlight looks thin and distant, the Justice League Watchtower kept its slow orbit around the planet. Most of the heroes had gone home hours ago. Batman had vanished without saying goodbye, as usual. Superman had left early to deal with something involving a collapsing bridge in Metropolis. Wonder Woman had stepped through a glowing doorway that led somewhere, most likely somewhere very ancient and divine. Even Green Lantern had logged off, leaving the station mostly quiet.
Which meant that tonight's Watchtower shift belonged to two people who probably should not have been trusted with something that expensive, well, at least one of them could be trusted, the other, sometimes couldn't make up his mind . . .
Booster Gold sat in the cafeteria with his boots kicked up on the table, chewing loudly on something that had once been labeled "space chili." The packet claimed it had been engineered to maintain flavor and texture in zero gravity. Booster suspected that meant it had been engineered to survive nuclear winter.
Still, he was hungry, and while the chili did have a crazy texture that something like chili shouldn't have, the taste was closer to good than weird, and in Booster's book, that was considered a win.
Across from him sat Ted Kord, also known as the Blue Beetle, hunched over a tablet glowing with diagrams and notes. His glasses had slipped halfway down his nose and he was staring so hard at the screen that Booster suspected the device might start sweating under the pressure.
I mean, the man, for real, wasn't even blinking. .
Booster pointed a spoon at him.
"You know I've been talking to you for the past twenty minutes at least, right?"
No response.
Booster leaned across the table and snapped his fingers directly in front of Ted's face.
Ted blinked once, twice, then slowly lifted his head like someone returning from another planet.
"Oh," he said, rubbing his temples. "Yeah. Sorry about that."
Booster stared.
"Sorry about that? That's all you've got? I just told a story that involved three gorillas, a haunted vending machine, and a guy who tried to mug Superman with a pool noodle and a piece of pink kryptonite."
Ted frowned.
"Wait, was that the story you were telling?"
Booster dropped his spoon dramatically.
"You didn't hear a word, did you?"
Ted shook his head, stretching his shoulders and glancing back down at the tablet. On the screen was the face of a teenage boy, dark hair, nervous expression, and behind the image a rotating scan of a metallic scarab attached to the boy's spine.
Jaime Reyes.
Ted had been studying the data for hours now.
"Sorry," Ted said again. "I'm still trying to figure out this whole Scarab situation. The kid showed up at my place looking like he thought aliens were about to eat him. Turns out he wasn't entirely wrong."
Booster leaned back.
"Kid's doing okay though, right?"
Ted nodded slowly.
"He's adapting faster than I expected. The Scarab didn't bond with me when I had it. But with him? It's like the thing woke up and decided it had finally found its perfect match, I just need to figure out why . . . . ."
He rubbed his eyes and checked the time on the tablet.
"Wow," he muttered. "Almost four in the morning."
Booster groaned loudly.
"How does it feel being the guy who always double-checks everything? Not really my style."
Ted raised an eyebrow.
"That's usually how, when, and why you get blamed and in trouble for almost everything you do."
Booster pointed at Skeets.
"See? Even Blue's roasting me now."
Skeets floated nearby, glowing gently in the Watchtower lighting. The small hovering robot had been quietly monitoring the station systems while Booster talked and Ted worked. Normally, Skeets would offer commentary every few minutes. Tonight, however, he had mostly been listening.
"Well," Skeets began politely, "friendship is about more than listening to complaints. It is also about patience, understanding, and occasionally letting one's companion talk uninterrupted about haunted vending machines, while focusing on more important matters, letting the friend in this situation let go of some 'steam'."
Booster crossed his arms.
"You're supposed to take my side."
Ted smirked.
"You don't have a side. You have a volume setting."
Skeets rotated slightly as if considering the argument.
"Technically," he said thoughtfully, "Booster Gold's volume setting is adjustable but very rarely utilized."
Booster threw a napkin at him.
"Traitor."
The cafeteria lights hummed softly above them.
Somewhere outside the station, Earth turned quietly beneath the Watchtower's orbit.
And then something impossible happened.
For less than a second, reality disappeared.
To Ted and Booster, it passed like nothing. One moment Booster was mid-complaint about chili packets, the next moment he was still mid-complaint about chili packets.
But Skeets experienced something very different.
For Skeets, the universe shattered.
Every system in his body exploded into contradictory data. His processors were torn apart and rebuilt in the same instant. Every sensor registered absolute nothing. Time was gone. Not slowed. Not distorted. Gone. He was melted from the inside out, and somehow, at the same time, shattering into many, many tiny pieces . . .
Then it returned.
Skeets reassembled himself, systems stabilizing as the universe resumed motion around him.
To Booster and Ted, it looked like Skeets had simply stopped speaking.
He hovered in place, silent.
Booster waved a hand in front of him.
"Skeets?"
Nothing.
Booster snapped his fingers in front of the Robot's face, "Yo, Skeets?! You still with us?"
Ted leaned forward slightly.
"That's weird."
For three seconds Skeets said nothing.
Then he spoke again in the calm, polite tone he always used.
"Update complete."
Booster blinked.
Ted blinked.
"Updated?" they both said at the same time.
Skeets' lights flickered once.
"Yes. Temporal interruption detected."
Booster nearly choked on his chili.
"A temporal WHAT?!"
Ted sat upright immediately.
Now he was paying attention.
Skeets rotated slowly in the air.
"For approximately one second, all measurable chronal flow ceased. The event registered across every sensor connected to my internal temporal reference systems."
Booster stared at him.
"You're telling me time just… stopped?"
"Yes."
Ted was already standing.
"That's not good."
Booster pointed dramatically toward Earth.
"That's very not good!"
Ted moved toward the nearby console, fingers flying across the keyboard as he began pulling up station logs.
"Can you locate the source?"
Skeets was quiet for a moment.
His processors ran calculations fast enough to make most computers cry.
Finally he answered.
"Triangulating."
Booster leaned closer.
"Please don't say Gotham."
Skeets' lights flickered again.
"Source identified."
Ted and Booster looked at him.
"Gotham."
Booster groaned so loudly the cafeteria speakers picked it up.
"Oh come on!"
Ted didn't even look up from the console.
"What's the problem?"
Booster threw his arms into the air.
"The problem is Batman hates it when I show up in Gotham!"
Ted finally looked over.
"You're worried about Batman's feelings?"
Booster nodded very seriously.
"Have you met Batman?"
Ted sighed and returned to the console.
"Relax. We're not going anywhere yet."
Booster slumped into the chair.
"Good."
Ted's expression darkened as he looked at the data scrolling across the screen.
Because whatever had happened down there had done something even stranger.
For exactly one second…
the entire universe had gone silent.
And that was the kind of thing the wrong people noticed.