Super & Real
Chapter Fifteen
The air had grown thick with every conceivable emotion. A veritable fleet of fighter jets from every nation did sorties over the pathway every few minutes. Battalions of soldiers had formed a wall of human bodies. Tanks in front and behind a fleet of Humvees all guarded the most important prisoner transport in human history. An armored semi-trailer truck driven by two soldiers armed to the teeth sat in the middle of a wall of vehicles. Inside the vehicle, Jericho and John sat opposite the most wanted man ever to live. Armed men sat with guns in the ready position. Jennifer flew above the convoy, ensuring no super tried to interfere.
Jack, to his credit, sat motionless. His face beet red and soaked from his own tears, he had plenty of time to piece together the horror in his mind. All his life, all he had ever wanted was to witness, as the song said, the glory of the coming of the Lord. It had been his dream ever since his father had opened the church when he was six years old. He couldn’t imagine how it could be any better than that. Yet, as a tropical storm of memories flashed through his mind, he found himself alone with the terrible fact that he’d become one of the false Christians he’d rallied so hard against in his sermons.
I was no better than them after all, he thought. As untold millions were ash beneath the soil of the Earth, all because of a monster he summoned, the true nightmare had come to haunt him. He had been in charge all along. Sure, the thing that called itself Jesus—the murderous false messiah he’d unleashed—had its own will and consciousness, but he ultimately could have asserted his control over it. Hell, under a different set of circumstances, he could have even been quite the hero. Unfortunately, he let his beliefs cloud his perception. It almost made him laugh now that he had nothing but time to think about it. How sad was it that superpowers were becoming reality all around him, and yet, he’d been so blinded by this figure appearing—and claiming to be Jesus, no less—that he somehow convinced himself it wasn’t true.
Jericho, hand on the shoulder of the murderer, focused intently to avoid any problem. He didn’t want to be blindsided, should Jack Hurst do anything. Still, the mad reverend resembled the human form of a deflated balloon. With the man’s guard down, he could read his memories. From what he saw, he could perfectly identify the things that had caused his downfall. Jericho had never felt such attachment to anything as this man did to his Lord. He was as much a true believer as any suicide bomber for a middle eastern terrorist group, just for a different cause. The result, however, proved no less disastrous. Very close to a billion were dead because of the actions of the man who sat inches from him. The sad part is that any number of people could have been this man. That’s what got to him the most. Jericho thought of the fact that there would be even a few who would willingly deceive the masses.
The enormous vehicle rumbled to a stop. The rear main door opened, with another set of armored doors behind it pulling open. When the group exited the vehicle, with over two dozen snipers and armed military men surrounding the entrance to the building, cameramen snapped pictures from behind the barricade. Jack Hurst stalked forward, head down, flanked on all sides. Jennifer hovered overhead, senses scanning for any conceivable problem. Friendly supers kept reconnaissance for several miles, keeping any enemy supers away, although there weren’t any, by the looks of things. A decided lack of suicide bombers and martyrs surprised not only Jericho, but the news media as well. The defeat of the fake Jesus had seemingly defused the mental bomb. Sure, the occasional right-wing pundit spoke to how ludicrous the whole thing was, and the random conspiracy theorist talked to their audience about how it was all a psy-op by the world’s governments, but the crowds lining the barricades largely didn’t know how to react.
The marble and granite of the building used to hold what would inevitably be the greatest criminal trial in human history spoke to age and prestige. Delegates from every nation watched every motion, every action, every thought that permeated the walls and corridors. It had been more than a week since the climactic battle, and the private meeting between Jack and his lawyer had taken place miles underground, in an abandoned mine that had been turned into his makeshift prison. No expense had been spared in a vain attempt to provide security. The people that had defeated him hadn’t taken time off. They took turns sleeping in shifts to make sure no one kept the world’s greatest criminal out of their sights.
Jennifer approached and walked a half foot behind Jericho and Jack Hurst. They walked down the hallway, the armed men walking ahead. Not once did Jack look up from the floor. After a quarter mile of hallway, two men opened the large oak doors to the courtroom. A small audience of camera crews and journalists, not to mention lawyers, bailiffs, and other various court officials either gasped, or made small statements. There were stands for an audience, but it had been kept empty, save for important law enforcement and legal officials. Jennifer and Jericho took a seat in the front row behind the defendant’s booth. Jack Hurst, motioned on by bailiffs, took a seat next to where his defense attorney sat. A heaviness to the air hovered in the room.
“All rise!”
At the main officer’s command, everyone stood. The judge entered from a rear door, climbed up above the room, and took his seat. The man wore a face aged from years of trying the harshest criminals in the world. His silver beard and hair amplified his stern expression, as he took in the sight of the man who had killed more people than anyone else in history, standing with hands folded in front of him at the defendant’s booth.
The judge cleared his throat. “You may be seated,” he commanded. Everyone sat. “Jackson Emile Hurst, you have been charged with crimes against humanity, mass murder, terrorism, and acts of sedition.” An official kept a typed record of all words said. Journalists wrote in their notepads. Cameramen focused on either the judge, or the defendant. “You have been accused, quite frankly, of more violence against innocent people than any person ever to live. How do you plead?”
The reverend took a moment to analyze the surroundings. This could, he realized, turn into the greatest show in the world’s history. The entire planet would be tuning in to partake in the single most important trial ever conducted. He would be immortalized forever in infamy never likely to be equaled by any criminal ever. It would be weeks, possibly months, of various witnesses. At the end of it all, he would be given an opportunity to make a final statement, perfectly encapsulating the entirety of him. It would be the greatest sermon of his life, where he would not ask for a forgiveness he didn’t deserve but would instead speak to why he believed so strongly. No man in history could have asked for a better platform to speak; the world would remember his words forever.
He took a deep breath, looked up at the judge, and smiled.
“Guilty.”
Everyone startled as if shocked by static. The judge found himself struck dumb. Newsmen and women shared looks of disbelief. After a long moment, the judge swallowed hard. “Well, um,” he began, “we shall convene in five days’ time to conduct a sentencing hearing.”
“NO.”
The judge’s head jerked briefly as if slapped when Jack made his pronouncement. It had come in a non-yelling, yet firm tone similar to a father reprimanding a son. “Excuse me, mister Hurst?” the judge asked, danger sounding in his voice.
“Sentence me now,” Jack said. “I don’t deserve a show, I don’t deserve a chance to give a final sermon to the world. I don’t deserve to have a grand speech immortalized in history books forever.” He looked at the groups of media men and women whose opportunities seemed to be vanishing before their eyes. “Condemn me before any more money is made off of me.”
The judge closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “As you wish,” he calmly spoke, opening his eyes. “You are hereby sentenced to death, sentence to be carried out in two hours’ time.” He lifted and slammed his gavel down. “Adjourned.”
Officers came and escorted the prisoner out of the room. Jennifer and Jack stood up to follow as security. They first walked him to a holding cell in the basement of the facility. After that, the two supers stood and waited as more guards came and opened the cell, and the whole collection of people led the condemned out of the cell and through a secure hallway to another armored vehicle. A driver and his copilot both took seats in the front, and then, after some five minutes of securing everything, the vehicle began rolling out of the garage. Ten minutes later, the man sat in his final waiting cell.
Jennifer sat in a chair, just outside the door that held the man she’d spent weeks fighting against. This unassuming man with gray in his hair held a higher body count than any person in history. Given the opportunity to create the biggest spectacle in television history, he instead chose to abruptly end his existence without giving a final grand notice. It went against what she expected. Still, she would see to his end herself.
Inside the cell, a portal opened, and out stepped Emily, and their two children, Eric and Tim. John watched as the four embraced. “You have forty-five minutes,” he told them, then left, the portal closing behind him.
The family sat and embraced. No words were spoken because no one could capture the mood effectively. The children were old enough to understand this would be the last time they saw their father. Emily knew her husband had committed crimes severe enough to warrant his punishment. Still, the pain of facing the future alone overwhelmed her. Jericho, seated next to his friend and ally, couldn’t face the scene the way his ally could. Jennifer, she seemed to be handling it better than him. As she ensured no shenanigans took place, her will had to be iron, as she knew these children would be orphans in less than an hour. Jericho could sense her unease, and yet he wondered how she did it.
“So, we won,” Jericho said, breaching the silence.
Jennifer let out a nasal sigh and blinked several times. “We pulled it off,” she agreed. “So now, we deal with the part they don’t show in the comics.”
“What’s your plan?”
Jennifer looked at him. “My plan for what?” she asked.
He shrugged. “You know,” he said, “for the future?”
She gave a chuckle. “You mean after I take a long nap and play some video games to wind down?” She said, pausing afterward to think about it. “I don’t know. I guess we get together as a team and discuss that.”
He laughed. “You know what I realized?” he said. “We never once formally sat down and decided we were a team, we just did it.” He scratched at his neck, instinctively. “I never would have dreamed as a kid that I’d be involved in all this crazy world-saving stuff.” He leaned back in his chair. “It’s crazy to think that the most important battle of our lives took place within less than six months from the first arrival of powers.”
Jennifer considered his words. “As someone who reads the comics,” she replied, “I find it amazing it took that long. Usually, the villains showed up right away.” She leaned forward and rested her arms on her thighs. “Honestly, I was expecting everything to go to hell right away. The fact that most people with powers didn’t do shit really surprised me.”
His mind raced for an answer, settling on one. “Maybe most of them had your idea,” he answered. “Maybe they all thought the villains were coming and didn’t want any part of that.” They sat in silence for a few minutes. “Anyway, I have thing I’m going to do soon.”
She looked at him. “What, specifically?” she asked.
He held out his hand. She got the hint immediately. She shook his hand.
Her eyes widened, and a grin appeared on her face. “That’s a good one,” she said. “When you said we were going to shake up the status quo, you meant we were going all in.” He nodded. “Well, I hope it turns out the way you want.”
Footsteps approaching from behind alerted them both. They turned around and saw five officers with guns and full riot gear approaching. “Time’s up,” the first officer in front said.
“Alright,” Jennifer said, “I’ve got it.” She stood up and knocked on the door.
Jack loosened his grip. His face wet and red, he put a hand on his sons’ shoulders. “I love you more than you know,” Jack simply stated. His sons went to protest the inevitable, but he silenced them with a finger over his mouth. “No, this is how it has to be.” He turned to his wife. “Emily, I should have known better. You shouldn’t have had to deal with this, especially not from me.” He pulled her tight. “You deserved better than me.”
“Jack!” she yelled.
“You’ll have to face the future without me,” he said. “I may not go where you’re going, but even still, I’ll love you.”
A portal opened. “Alright, it’s time for you guys to go,” John said, motioning at the three. The wife and children stepped away from their loved one.
“Dad, I’ll miss you,” Tim said, wiping his face.
“Don’t worry,” Jack reassured. “You won’t make the mistakes I made. You’ll be wise and strong. Not like me.”
“Dad!” Eric protested, “I can’t…!”
“You can,” Jack said, nodding.
The three disappeared into the portal. A few moments later, the cell door opened.
Jack stood up. Somehow, near the end, he felt a sense of relief. His beliefs had been shredded, and he didn’t know what would happen next, but at the very least, he knew his death would bring about the end of this horror that he had unleashed.
The soldiers turned to the two supers. “We’ll take it from here,” one said, “just follow us from behind.”
“Alright,” Jennifer agreed.
The soldiers led the man down the hall.
The door opened, revealing a medical table.
“Jack Hurst, take your place on this table,” A man said, approaching. He placed his hands on Jack’s shoulders.
Light passed through his eyes.
Jack found himself coming awake.
“Hm…WHAT?”
Jack shouted as he shook the grogginess out of his eyes. As his head swerved from right to left and back, he saw himself in a room surrounded by men in suits. “Before you do anything,” A man dressed the most elaborately of them, wearing an expensive Rolex, stated in a flat tone, “realize that we have ways of finding those you care about, and I know that, even now, there are those you wouldn’t want us to get to.”
“What the hell is going on?” Jack shouted.
“We knew the heroes were going to insist you be executed after trial,” the man replied, a grin on his face. “That was their mistake. You see, we’re the United States. We can get our own inside anywhere.”
Jack blinked rapidly several times. “So, you’re saying the US government put a super on my execution?” he asked.
“Exactly,” the agent said. “You see, getting supers that were in the employ of American agencies to stay loyal wasn’t exactly difficult, given our resources.” He shifted position in his chair. “We almost lost you. But you have the power to decimate nations in an instant. It’s the worst possible power. It’s exactly what we need so we can usher in a new American age like no other.”
Jack shook his head. “So, you’ve figured out all the angles?”
“It wasn’t difficult, we just had to make sure to transport a copy of you to a place with a faraday cage so you couldn’t transmit anything to the outside.” The man stood up and stretched. “Not that it matters. You’re going to be doing us a lot of favors from now on.”
“So the nation I love,” Jack said, in disbelief, “resorts to using monsters to control the world?”
“The world resists our efforts to control them,” the man said. “After all, it’s not like the middle east is getting any more secure.”
“Unbelievable,” Jack said. “I can’t believe this.”
The man shrugged. “There’s nothing to believe,” he said. “Our operative made sure no one knew you were being sent here.”
“Your agent wasn’t as clever as he thought,” Raymond said.
All the suited agents turned around. Ramond and John stood near a portal. “We had days to talk about the aftermath of the battle,” John explained, “and we all came to the conclusion that some rogue power, be it a nation, or a terrorist group, would try to make use of your power.”
“This entire conversation just got transmitted to the whole world,” Raymond said, pointing up.
The agents looked up and saw a series of drones, silently hovering overhead.
“Wait!” the suited man said.
The two supers and Jack Hurst exchanged a glance, right before the two vanished into a portal behind them. A moment later, the reverend summoned a device that sat in front of him. The agents looked at it.
A few moments later, an abandoned power plant a hundred miles or so north of Langley, Virginia exploded, showering concrete and steel on the forest nearby.
Some six days later, the President of the United States stood poised in front of a massive audience of onlookers. Jennifer and her friends, the people who fought alongside her to save the world, sat in chairs behind the government officials. The mood in the crowd seemed to be a stark contrast to the chaotic storm of emotion from the days earlier, when pious servants of the worst monster ever to terrorize the planet, the false messiah, shouted their cries and pleas for mass extermination as they watched their fake leader fight his final battle. This crowd seemed the sign of peace and quiet, as they sat, watching as the world breathed a sigh of relief after the near end of civilization.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” the President began, “we are gathered here to celebrate victory in the face of a battle unlike anything that this world has ever seen.” Jennifer looked over the crowd, scanning each one as she waited. It pleased her to see no guns or explosive devices. Apparently, the victory had bought her some time to breathe, as she didn’t want to have to fly back into action so quickly. “We have all had our faith shaken, both in our institutions, and our fellow man, as a terrible crime, worse than any other, was perpetrated by an evil wearing the very face of the messiah so many believe in.” Jericho adjusted his tie as he did a victory lap in his mind. This whole ordeal had given him a new perspective, not just because of his powers, but because he’d never imagined himself fighting for a cause before. “In the face of unparalleled wickedness, a team of people have come together to save us all, and for that, we are here to celebrate them. First, the woman who was first to answer the call, Jennifer Black!”
The audience applauded. The President stood aside and pointed. Jennifer stood up and approached. She put her hands on the podium to steady herself. She’d never had to deal with a crowd like this before. “Um,” she said, “I don’t know what to say other than, well, I couldn’t stand by and watch something happen knowing I could have stopped it.” The crowd applauded again, and she saw they expected more out of her. She continued. “I didn’t know what I was supposed to do, so I just started showing up where people needed help and helping them. When the true terror began, I knew I had to be there to stop him, because no one was going to do it for me.” She paused to catch up to her racing heartbeat, and for the clapping to die down. “I promise that, from now on, my friends and I, we’re going to do everything we can to make things as good as they can be. That’s all.” She got up and headed back to her seat for a standing ovation.
“Well, that’s the best news we’ve gotten so far,” the President cheered, “and that’s something to look forward to. Next, a hero who stepped away from comfort to risk his life to save us, Jericho Torvalds!”
The billionaire stood up. “I am not one for giving speeches,” he explained. “Needless to say, I have to echo the sentiments of my good friend and ally, Jennifer, for how she so effectively stated our mission. In the coming days and months, we will begin a process of enrichment for all mankind, including some of the biggest opportunities in history. I can’t state specifics at this time, but rest assured we are preparing our plans as we speak.”
“Excellent,” the President agreed. He pointed. “Annie Wilson, who fought valiantly and fought evil all around the world in the lead-up to the climactic fight, come up!” She nodded and waved her turn off. “Alright then, Edward Mitchell, you had something you wanted to say?”
“I did,” the young man said, taking the podium. “I wanted to say something. My momma raised me to be a follower of Christ, so I have to speak from a slightly different position than my friends. When I saw that this monster wearing the face of the Lord Jesus Christ was doing what he was doing, I tried to hide it, but it ate away at me inside.” He paused and wiped his eyes. “Then, I saw so many of my fellow so-called Christians standing aside and letting this thing wreak havoc, or worse, actively assisting in the murder, not once contemplating the truth or falsity of the words being said.” He coughed. “Honestly, I think, in the wake of this act of unspeakable evil, we need to call out our fellow Christians for not standing up for the values of the real Jesus. We need to make sure we don’t support evil in its purest form.” A wave of cheers came from the crowd. “It’s high time we make it known that the real Christ wouldn’t kill! The real Christ wouldn’t hate or be hateful!” The cheers grew. “We’re the ones who are supposed to be the most accepting! How can we be so lazy as to forget that it’s our duty to fight against those who call themselves Christian but are hateful and exclusionary and are more interested in laws and court decisions than the lives of their fellow human being!” He blinked his eyes dry. “All I’m saying, is that we have to be the loving, accepting followers of Christ we’re supposed to be. More focused on people and less on the things they do.”
“What a wonderful sentiment!” The President said, applauding. “John Stephenson, did you wish to speak?”
John shook his head. “I can’t top that,” he admitted.
“Raymond Weiss?” the President asked, and the scientist shook his head. “Davis Wilson?”
The agent stood up and took the podium. “My boss isn’t much for words,” he said, “so I figured I’d speak for him and all of us in the government. This ordeal shook our very foundations. It also represents a rare opportunity to change the trajectory of our nation. I work for the FBI, and that means I deal with criminals. But I think it’s high time we stop focusing on policing our citizens with hardcore techniques and policing the rich and powerful with kid gloves. I think we need to restructure our approach to both law enforcement and the interactions between the government and its people.” He shrugged. “But hey, what do I know? I just happened to be one of the good ones.” A mild laugh passed over the crowd.
“Well, that was the latest in a string of good ideas for the future!” The President stated. He pulled open a leather-bound folder. “What I do next, I do with great pride. By signing this,” he pulled out a pen and signed, “I hereby grant citizenship to Jennifer Black, as well as authorizing a generous monetary reward for all the heroes who assisted her friends and her in their unprecedented struggle against a tyrannical evil.”
The crowd stood and applauded, and Jennifer and her friends did the same. After a few moments of being celebrated, the President handed each of them a document showing their congratulations as well as showing their gift for having saved the world. Of the group of them, only Jericho didn’t have some kind of freak out at the seven-digit number printed at the bottom.
What proceeded next was a whirlwind of important congressmen and heads of state mingling with the heroes, photos and selfies taken, and other various ceremony. Honestly, Jennifer wanted to get back home and relax. Jericho saw her mood painted on her face and approached. “Honestly, hey, I’ll take care of the rest,” he said. “You go home. You’ve earned it.”
She gave a half-smile. “You sure?” she asked.
He nodded. “Believe me,” he assured her, “I’m familiar with situations like this.”
“Thank you so much,” she said. She pulled him closer into a tight hug.
“I’m only here because of you,” he said. “I’m the one who should be thanking you.”
The flight home took only a few minutes. She landed in a field not far from her house and sped the rest of the way on foot. Inside the bushes, she shifted back. Manny reached into his pocket and pulled out his housekey and opened the front door. Although he wasn’t physically exhausted, the weight of the past months caught up to him all at once, and he walked to his room and collapsed onto his bed. As he rolled over onto his back, he fell into a deep slumber. If a disaster happened right now, one of his other friends could take care of it. A dream of the future played out in his mind. He saw a scene of humanity taking to the stars. He flew through space with his friends and he loved it. His female form would take him places he couldn’t otherwise go, and that was a gift he wasn’t going to give up for anything. The disasters he would have to face as Capacitor he no longer felt afraid to take on.
After the meeting, Jericho arrived at the hotel room.
“So,” he said, as his brother got up from the bed. “You weren’t up for the event?”
Luther hugged his brother. “Nah,” he retorted. “Big public showings were always your thing.”
Jericho pulled in tight for the hug. “I’m so glad you were there to help me,” he praised. “Honestly, I don’t know what I would do without you.”
His little brother laughed as he pulled back. “Careful,” he warned. “That almost sounds like you need me.”
“You’re right,” Jericho countered. “I do need you. And you’re going to love what I have in mind.”
Luther raised his eyebrows. “That’s a scary thought.”
Johann Torrell flipped through the pages of the Wall Street Journal. It had been weeks since the fateful battle for humanity. The mourning continued in Asia for the inhuman loss of life. Everywhere from the holy land in the middle east to the far reaches of China, the mood was a mixture of solemn and hopeful. The horror that had ensued during the false messiah and his reign of terror had put everyone on edge. He flipped past the world news to the prices of various futures.
“Sir?”
Johann looked up from his paper at the source of the voice. One of his employees had approached the table. “What is it, Christof?” he asked.
The man set a refrigerated package on the table. “Your shipment from Firestorm, sir,” Christof said, gesturing at the shipping label.
Johann perked up. “Ah! Yes,” he said. “I needed to see what the hubbub is all about.” As he set the paper down, he noticed the article about the increase in charitable giving. “Do you believe it?”
Christof perked up. “Believe, what, sir?” he asked.
Johann regarded the article with the disdainful expression warranted of old gym socks. “Billionaires giving up almost all their wealth, funding massive humanitarian campaigns.” He rolled his eyes. “It’s like the whole world’s gone goddamn socialist!”
Christof laughed. “Believe me, sir,” he revealed, “if I had as much money as you, I wouldn’t be doing that.”
“Oh, don’t worry,” Johann said, chuckling. “I’m not giving up on the proper order anytime soon.” He used his knife to open the container. “I’m just so blown away. Would you believe I called Stephen Mavil…”
“Oh, the head of the Mavil family?” Christof asked. “The group that owns the largest producer of mining equipment?”
Johann nodded absently as he opened. “Yes, that’s the one,” he said. “Also, they have a group of mines of various minerals across the world. Anyway, you know what he did?”
“What, sir?”
The billionaire looked up, incredulous. “He said his family and he were giving up most of their mines! That the employees of his company would own it, as a collective! That he was liquidating most of his family’s stocks and giving all of it to the world’s poor!”
Christof gave a startled laugh. “What sheer insanity!” he agreed.
“I can’t imagine their family surviving on the twenty million or so they’ll have left after all that,” the head of the Torrell family admitted, opening the package. He removed one of the two bottles of champagne and pulled a glass from the other side of the table.
“Anyway,” Christof said, looking at the package, “isn’t Firestorm Spirits that champagne making company your grandson started?”
“Sure is,” Johann replied. “I’m damn proud of that boy. I first met him when he was just a boy, and I knew I could cultivate in him the spirit of competition.” He poured himself some champagne from the bottle. “He made something of himself. He was no minnow, Jericho, no he was a shark. He was destined for the upper echelons of society.”
“Sir?” Christof asked. “Do you mind if I try some?”
Johann broke from his reverie. “What? No, go ahead,” he offered.
“Thank you, sir,” Christof exclaimed, nodding as he poured himself a glass. He downed his glass in one swig. “Ah, that’s great stuff! That’s why it’s been selling out.”
“If you give it such high regards,” Johann said. “Honestly, I would never have pictured Jericho going into spirit making, but that just goes to show how talented he is.”
“It’s really popular with high society,” Christof noted. “All the world’s elite are drinking it.”
“They know taste when they drink it,” Johann agreed. He lifted his glass. “Anyway, cheers!” He put the glass to his lips and took a strong sip.
A storm of emotion shot through the billionaire’s head. A whirlwind of scenes, images, and feelings passed in rapid-fire. He found himself a war widow in Africa, watching her children starve while she lay powerless to feed them. A child in southeast Asia dying from a warlord’s bullet through his stomach, a slow, agonizing death, played out, with him seeing through the young boy’s eyes. Next, he found himself a young black man, forced to turn to selling drugs to feed his mother, dying of cancer, only to be murdered by police over a bag of weed. The visceral sights, smells, and raw feelings shot through him at lightning speed. These and about a few thousand other horrifying, soul-crushing examples of real lives having suffered and been laid to waste by easily preventable societal ills, played out in only an instant of real time in his mind.
One instant, Christof saw Johann take a sip, he then slipped and tumbled backward into his seat. The glass fell from his fingertips and clattered on the table. The billionaire blinked. Tears began to pour from his eyes. “Well, sir,” he asked, “how was it?”
Johann Torrell looked up and saw knowing in his employee’s eyes. “My…god…” he said, struggled. “It’s…it’s so horrible…”
“Go ahead, sir,” Christof said, taking the overturned glass and pouring his boss another drink. “Drink some more.”
The billionaire, his breathing harsh and struggling, clasped his fingers to the glass, pulled it to his lips and drank again. Another flash of thousands of memories came to him at once. “It’s all our fault!” he shouted. “We could have made a world where these people hadn’t had to suffer! It’s all our fault!”
“I take it you’ve taken a drink,” Jericho said, the memory of the man speaking to himself in the mirror-and indirectly, to each person who took a sip. “Using a number of powers I’ve collected, I’ve put a bit of power into each batch of liquor this startup of mine makes. If you’re a member of the richest, most powerful class of people in the world-like I am-then I know for a fact this has been designed to work specifically on you.” Jericho took a deep breath to steady himself, steeling his will for what came next. “When superpowers first became real, and I discovered I could copy powers, I did what I always did; I identified the new currency, in this case, abilities, and sought to collect them the way I sought to collect money.” He removed his tie and set it on the bed next to him.
“At some point, I came across the ability to live the memories of another person quite literally, in my head. This turned out to be the single most important moment of my life, although I didn’t know it. What it enabled me to do was to see how utterly wrong I was about everything. I saw that it was my class of people that had brought the world into a state where disaster was inevitable. Our hoarding of wealth has crippled the common people and made it a situation where things could devolve into chaos. Thankfully, as it turned out, people seemed too nervous about bringing down everything, and life went on, largely untouched. At least, that is, until Jack and his monster happened.”
He removed his suit jacket and flung it onto the floor. “So, what have I done? Simple. I’ve collected thousands of memories in my travels, my friends and I having travelled across the globe, saving lives and, in general, making everything better. What I’ve done, is given you some of the first-hand experiences I know will clash directly with your preconceived notions about social hierarchies and everyone’s ‘proper place in the world,’ and other Ayn Rand horseshit that I believed since I was a child.”
“I’ve also given you a huge boost of empathy and compassion.” He grinned. “At this point, I know some of you are cursing my name, wishing they could reach across space-time and kill me with your thoughts alone. I don’t blame you. In the weeks to come, even though I am no puppet master, I rest easy knowing that you will choose to make needed sacrifices to make the world a better place. You won’t be able to ignore the suffering I’ve put in your head. You won’t be able to pretend you aren’t part of the problem. And believe me, I’m not saying this from a self-righteous position. I, too, am going to be giving away almost all of my wealth.” He shook his head. “No, I’m going to be part of the solution, going forward.”
He stepped closer to the mirror. “You may think what I’ve done is wrong. You may say I’ve stepped over a line. I’ve committed an unforgivable sin. Just a matter of less than a year ago, I’d have agreed with you. But the time of man has drawn short, and the time for half-measures is long past. I can, however, give you two pieces of consolation.” He lifted one finger. “First, even after you’ve given away almost every cent you’re worth, you’ll still have more than enough not to have to worry.”
He lifted a second finger. “And second, I’ve pulled your neck from the guillotine.”
The memory faded, and Johann wiped his eyes.
“Father! Is everything all right?”
Johann blinked. “Oh, Reginald, my son,” he said. He nodded. “Oh, don’t mind me. I’m just an old codger having a moment.”
He smiled, pulled a spare glass, and poured. “Say, why don’t you try a glass?”