Disclaimer: This is the first chapter in a story about an "other world" based on the Arrowverse, the CW shows that focus on DC superheroes. I am writing this as my way of paying homage to my fandom for the Arrowverse. The character names Supergirl, Green Arrow, The Flash, Canary and Brainiac are trademarks of DC Comics. These chapters are free to read, they will not be published in book format, nor will any revenue be generated from the chapters. If there are legal issues involved with the usage of these characters, please email me at bwmorris at mail dot com and I will cease with the writing. Critiquing of my writing is welcomed and may be left in the comments.
Three years gone by and I have never felt more alone.
I sit on my crystalline chair and study the small screen in my lap. The technology I salvaged from my rocket allowed me to tap into the satellites orbiting this planet. That's how I've been able to learn more from what they call news broadcasts about those who inhabit the planet called Earth.
Upon the small screen, images flash with words plastered across the bottom: "Peace Talks Break Down Again." It took me a while to learn this language they call English, especially with the countless other languages the inhabitants speak. How strange it is that so many languages would be in use. Maybe that's why it's so difficult for them to make peace with one another.
Of course, it wasn't so easy to find peace on my home planet, either. I remember the disputes that happened in the final days of my home world, the planet Krypton. They tapped into the core because they needed energy. The reasons they claimed for doing so run through my mind. How we couldn't change our lifestyles, how another source of energy wasn't viable, how we needed to keep up the planet's defenses. If only they had realized that their actions would fail to accomplish those things, and even worse, doom the planet, millions of lives may have been saved.
As if on cue, the individual who now appears on my screen, a young female with blonde hair and a red dress, is talking about a practice called fracking. It's something to do with tapping into the planet to find an energy source. There's a debate raging about its effect on the planet. Some say it causes earthquakes, for instance. But then she interviews another individual, a balding male who wears a blue suit over a white shirt, blue pants and a red cloth around his neck called a tie. He says these claims about what fracking does are nonsense, and besides, this energy source is cheap.
A pit forms in my stomach. Could this planet be repeating the same mistakes of my own? And thinking about the loss of my home world only reminds me how lonely I feel. How I wish my husband had been able to get into his rocket in time -- or that he found a way to build one big enough for two. But he was taking a risk as it was, my husband told me. I remember his final words, "Tara Nim-El, do not wait for me. Save yourself."
A tear forms in my eye and I wipe a finger underneath. My husband was one of several who tried to convince the Kryptonian leaders that the planet was in danger, but they ignored him until it was too late. He had to keep our plans to build escape rockets a secret. The leaders said they couldn't induce a panic in the population if any of us tried to leave. I know at least a couple others who were tempted to flee. If they did escape, I have no idea where they are.
I stare down at the screen again, wanting to get my mind off my past. Now I see more words scroll across the bottom: "Stock Market Takes A Dive." The planet's obsession with wealth is one I will never understand. Though I can't be quick to fault the inhabitants of Earth -- they call themselves humans -- for their obsessions, knowing that my own kind had them. But the ones humans have were never what my fellow Kryptonians craved. Wealth, big houses, fancy machines they call cars. But one obsession humans have in common with my home world, their desire for strong defenses. The need to feel safe. Even if the actions they take are anything but safe.
Placing the screen to the side, I stand and walk across this vast chamber toward the gigantic panel that holds my fortress's controls. Taking the clear crystal that rests across the panel, I place it into the large slot in the center. Lights flash around the panel and I speak my command, "Food, please."
Then I walk across the chamber toward a small cooking compartment. It lights up and, inside, the meat I've placed inside turns from a pale white to a golden brown. The smell flooding through the chamber makes my mouth water. I had no idea that these creatures called penguins could be used for food. Though I've learned that most people on Earth raise chickens and cows for meat, plus many have a craving for something called bacon. I would attempt to venture elsewhere to find these Earth delicacies. But while I may be lonely, I'm afraid to confront another being. Would they ever accept a stranger from another planet?
A few minutes later, the red lights in the compartment fade away and the door pops open. I take a deep breath, letting the aroma calm me, before grabbing the cooked bird and taking a bite. On my home world, grabbing and eating food this hot would burn my hand and tongue, but on this planet, I have no such issues. My husband had theorized that a yellow sun would affect our cells and make us less subject to physical harm. The more I went outside my chamber, the more I realized he was right.
Walking across the chamber, I come to a small fountain, dip my hand in the water and take a sip. At least finding water was not a problem. The crystal I dropped in the snow to create this chamber ensured me that I would have access to this vital liquid, to drink and to keep clean.
But I can only wonder if there is more to experience since my rocket landed here three years ago. I have only ventured outside my chamber to hunt nearby creatures for food. Thus far, nobody has discovered me. The technology I salvaged from my rocket keeps the chamber invisible to detection, just as it did the rocket. That is, at least as far as I know. If any of these humans have discovered my whereabouts, they have yet to come this way.
Finishing off the meat, I scoop up another handful of water, drink, then dip my hands again to clean them off. Shaking my fingers, I go back to the panel, still lit up. I am about to remove the crystal, but something catches my eye. A flashing red light.
It can't be. Is there more Kryptonian life here? That light was supposed to activate once it detected the presence of something, anything from my home world. Did one of my fellow Kryptonians make it here?
Curious, I lean toward the panel and issue a command, "Analysis, please."
It takes a minute or two before I hear the monotone response. "Confirmed existence of Brainiac."
I raise my eyebrows. How is that possible? Brainiac was the artificial intelligence my people developed to monitor the planet's defenses and environments. There's no way it could have made its way to Earth. After all, Brainiac was nothing but a computer that could only respond to Kryptonian command. The man who invented it theorized that Brainiac could adapt and, perhaps, evolve. But like most of my fellow Kryptonians, I thought that was crazy.
Studying the panel, I wonder if there is a malfunction. "Are you sure?" I ask.
The monotone voice responds, "Confirmed."
I shake my head. This chamber and the technology I salvaged isn't at the level of Brainiac, but it hasn't failed me so far in allowing me to live here for three years with no contact with another being. And there can't possibly be Kryptonian technology elsewhere on this world. Unless...
"Any other Kryptonians detected?" I ask.
The reply comes. "Negative."
I scratch my chin. "Where is the location?"
A few seconds later, a three-dimensional globe in a blue outline lights up, with one red dot prominent. "Location is described as Washington D.C."
I learned enough from the broadcasts to know that is the capital of a nation called the United States. It's supposed to be a place of great influence on this planet. Could it be that these beings have developed technology so advanced that it might be similar to Brainiac? Though I have seen no evidence thus far, I am reminded about what my husband told me about exploring planets: Absence of evidence doesn't equal evidence of absence.
Stepping away from the panel, I wonder if the time has come for me to contact another being. But as I look down at the white gown with the symbol of the House of El in black over the chest, I know it won't be that easy. How I can just go up to somebody in Washington D.C. and ask them? Especially if they saw the things I can do -- like I how my skin doesn't burn when I touch something hunt.
Not only has the yellow sun's radiation affected my cellular structure, but I discovered I had the ability to fly not long after I landed here. My vision changed, allowing me to see through objects at one point, then emit beams of heat at another. My strength increased, as did my stamina. So many wonderful powers, but given the state of affairs on Earth, I can imagine that some people might be wary of me. It's another reason I've remained isolated.
However, I realize I can no longer live like this. But if it is time to reveal myself to Earth, I must find the right person to meet. And I can think of a few that I have learned more about, a few who have fascinated me.
I lean toward the panel again. "Pull up information on the ones they call superheroes."
The globe outline disappears, replaced with footage I have stored of the various broadcasts. Three images rise in front of me -- images said to be obtained from something called security cameras. One clip takes place late at night, outdoors, of a large individual being knocked to the ground. Though the lighting is minimal, I can make out a red streak moving in rapid fashion. I have replayed this many times in slow motion, studying it, and determined that streak is a female with dark brown skin and dressed in a red outfit. But she only seems to come out when it's dark outside. I know little about her beyond this super speed she possesses.
The second piece of footage is another that takes place at night, in which I see a rather muscular male with dark brown hair, dressed in yellow clothing. This man in yellow, despite fighting four people at a time, holds the advantage. He swings his fists, kicks his legs and, on more than one occasion, opens his mouth and a sonic wave fills the air, enough to throw his adversaries backwards. Though an interesting individual, something about the way he carries himself rubs me the wrong way. Maybe it's that cocky smile on his face.
Then there's a third individual, dressed in a green jacket with a hood draped over his head. A black mask covers his eyes. Green pants complete his look. He always carries around a bow and a quiver of arrows is strapped over his shoulder. Drawing from the quiver, he pulls an arrow and fires. He's smiling, too, but it's a friendlier one, like he's having fun, regardless of what he's up against. Most of all, he doesn't operate in the shadows like the other two. His work seems to take place in broad daylight. I have watched other footage of him, too, in which he has met publicly with others, spoken about how he values all life and it's important to stand up for what is right.
Raising my finger toward that man dressed in green, I issue my request. "Give me the location of this Green Arrow."
The monotone response: "Location, Star City."
"Visual, please," I ask.
The globe reappears and a different red spot lights up.
My decision is made. If I am going to reveal my presence to the world, best to start with a superhero who keeps himself out in the open, rather than coming out at night.
I make my way across the chamber toward the bed that sits in one corner and stare at the blankets draped over it. Pulling up one in red, I examine it. My eye catches the blue blanket that remains. Though I know who I should meet first on this world, I wonder if it would be better to show up in something other than this white gown.
As I glance at my gown, I notice the symbol on the chest -- the symbol of the House of El. The symbol of hope. And though I must determine what outfit would be appropriate, I realize that symbol of hope should be part of it.
To be continued in Chapter 2.
No comments:
Post a Comment