Unsupermen
‘So, what’s in the box?’
Norman tensed and tightened his grip
on the small package on his lap, immediately fretting even more that he had
damaged the contents by squeezing too tightly. He was forced to remind himself
that he wasn’t some lumbering hulk absentmindedly crushing things without
realising. The box was perfectly fine.
The interviewer’s sunglasses slipped
down from their perch above the ridge of his nose and he casually, but
precisely, pushed them back up to their exact resting spot. Norman
could make out the vague outline of himself in the reflective lenses. His
bright orange tie looked even more crooked in the warped mirrors, though it
still felt a tight noose around his neck. A stark contrast to his interrogator,
who seemed to breathe easily enough despite the elaborate knot at his throat
and a rigid grey pin-stripe suit.
From behind his desk, he looked as
if he belonged amongst the furniture of the room - the tall steel filing
cabinets, the chrome printer. Even his stapler shared a similar palate and
disposition. The only non-metallic item in the room seemed to be the small wooden
nameplate at the front of his desk - etched in sunken golden lettering upon it
were the words Dr. Charles Lylak. Norman wondered just what kind of doctor he
was.
‘What’s in the box, Norman?’ he
pressed ‘I’m not psychic, you know’
“I.. well … you see …” spat Norman,
choking on his words.
‘Norman, do you know why you’re
here?’ The question was asked innocently enough, but the bluntness of the
statement made Norman uneasy. There would be no dancing around it today.
“Because I don’t have a job and I
don’t ...I don’t have any powers.’ he confessed.
‘I’m afraid not’ said Dr. Lylak with
a look of genuine sympathy, despite the straight-forward approach. He took off
his aviators and rubbed his eyes. They shone a bright purple and Norman was hard
pressed not to squint. ‘Your parents are very worried about you. They were most
insistent that I see you.’
‘They are always worrying. I wish
they’d just leave me alone.’ lamented Norman.
It was true, Norman’s parents were
worrisome, but it had not always been the case. When he was born, they may have
shown some slight apprehension about his lack of abilities - no strength, nor
speed, nor laser beams. Not even a tail. But the doctors had reassured them
that everything was fine and that many children don’t discover their powers
until later years. So they brought him home and examined him like a Christmas
present, trying to guess what lay beneath the wrapping. Would he be a Hydro
like his father, Nathan Neptune, who could summon huge tempests with a flick of
the wrist? Maybe more subtle powers like his mother, who could tell when
somebody was lying or perhaps that was just a power all mothers have.
They grew concerned once Norman
started attending school and was placed in the NVP (No Visible Powers) Class,
with all the other children who had yet to find out who they really were. There
was Harry Heartbeat whose organs began to function at an extraordinary rate. He
was soon moved to a special class for speedsters. He went on to become an
Emergency Responder, Norman recalled. Ellen Everlast realised she was immortal
when a bookcase collapsed on her in the 3rd Grade. And there was Chloe
Contiage, Norman’s childhood crush, who discovered she was a living bio-weapon
when she accidentally infected Norman with Cholera through their first kiss.
Norman had spent three weeks in the hospital, which he deemed to have been
worth it. She too was gone upon his return to school. And so it went on, all
the way through middle school, high school and university. His parents tried to
mask their feelings, but as Norman aged the more he could see their growing
anxiety over when he would develop his powers, until eventually Norman graduated
from university Bachelor of Arts - NVP. It didn’t bother Norman that much. He
had always gotten by without any powers and he was sure he could continue to do
so, but he hated seeing that look of disappointment in his mother’s eyes. So
much so, he had moved out and found his own apartment, away from Cloud Quarter,
the affluent begrudgers and government cronies. Away from all the nagging and
pestering and disappointment.
‘Be that as it may’ spoke Dr. Lylak,
snapping Norman back to reality ‘They brought you here for a reason.’ A glimmer
of lavender shone out from behind his sunglasses and a glass of water bobbed
its way across the room. Norman pressed his precious box first to the side and
then behind his back, away from the ebbing water as it traversed around his
seat to the man in the grey suit, who caught it nonchalantly and took a small
sip. ‘Here, have some water’ said the doctor. Norman turned to see another
glass was resting by his shoulder, bobbing up and down like a piece of flotsam.
Norman took the glass and drank deeply. He was quite parched.
‘Norman, do you know what my powers
are?’ spoke Dr. Lylak before Norman had finished swallowing.
“You can tell when people are
thirsty?’
‘Not quite’ he chuckled. Norman
didn’t realise that men in suits could laugh. They always seemed so dreary.
Well, those from the government anyways.
‘Norman, I can sense a person’s
needs, their … desires, for want of a better word. I help them discover who
they are and how they can be a benefit to our society. How can you benefit our
society Norman?’
‘Well .. I’m a pretty good swimmer.’
offered Norman weakly.
“Hahum. I’m sure you are’ the doctor
said gently ‘but unless you can swim faster than a man with a dorsal fin, then
I’m not sure that Lifeguard is the best fit for you. No, no, no. Tell me
Norman. Who are the people in your life? How are you of benefit to them?’
The room started to darken and take
on a violet hue. Purple light shone off the chrome surfaces and refracted
around the walls, covering everything in a plum haze. Norman pondered for a
while. The people in his life? He had only ever seemed to disappoint his
parents. He couldn’t even play underwater sports with his dad. Instead, he
liked to sit in his room and read books or draw pictures. He remembered seeing
the pain in his dad’s eyes as they were forced to move away from their house at
the Lagoon and into a more suitable apartment in Starlight City. A swamp was no
place for a growing boy with no powers. Was he really of benefit to anyone at
all?
*
A dog barked angrily at passersby.
Disgruntled drivers stuck in traffic blared their horns defiantly at other irritated
commuters who were in the same position. A little girl wailed as she mourned a
dropped ice cream cone. 10 storeys up and several blocks away from all these
different commotions, Bill could hear everything. He could always hear it. It
never went away. Even in the dead of night there were sounds of drunken brawls,
stray cats, or construction work. The incessant noise had become like a
background static to Bill as he tried to drown it all out.
He stared blankly at the TV as the
Spanish soap opera continued its matinee. Repeating all the previous episodes of
the week, in case the busy housewives or the elderly had missed any of the
gripping drama.
Bill bobbed up and down, slouched in
mid-air above the living room couch. His light blue bathrobe hung loosely from
his muscular frame, struggling to hang on and threatening to reveal his old,
worn underwear to the exasperated woman on the TV screen.
‘No es beuno!!’ lamented the
mistress on TV, dramatically leaning back from the camera and planting her
wrist to her forehead.
‘No es bueno’ sighed Bill and
tightened the cords of his gown. His interest waning, Bill pierced the TV with
his supervision, looking beyond the surface, to the connections of tubes and
screws and wires. He followed one wire down the back of the TV, through the
plug and escaping out into the hallway and beyond. Bill could have pursued it
further, but it was already a trivial deflection from boredom. He re-adjusted
his eyes and scanned the living room for something to peak his interest. Like
most apartments in the city, it was fairly sparse. Not many people in the area opted
for well-furnished living quarters, where at a moment’s notice a neighbour’s
sneeze could blow a hole in your bedroom. His eyes peeled over the cracking plastic
veneer of the living room floor, failing poorly in masquerading as genuine
wood, past the TV, with all its tangled wires and even more tangled Spanish
love triangles, to the desk in the far corner.
It was a plain wooden desk that
creaked irksomely if you leaned too hard on it. A few trinkets lay on top,
mostly his roommate Norman’s – Norman’s notebook and pencils, complete with
chew marks, Norman’s snowglobe, a birthday gift from his mother, Norman’s
medication from when he was sick. Bill pondered what it was like to be sick. He
was never sick. What must it be like to feel pain? To be vulnerable and needy? What
must it be like to feel anything at all? He tried reading the label on the
container.
‘Apsirin … Aprisin …Aspirin. Take
tow tims a dya .. a day. If you ex ..exp .. exper …Bah!’
‘Dyslexia, my only weakness’ he
thought to himself, allowing himself a rare smile. Giving up on the bottle of
pills, he turned his attention to the other items on the desk. Norman’s
swimming googles, Norman’s paintbrush, Norman’s pepper spray. He had bought it
shortly after moving in with Bill. The run-down neighbourhood full of dilapidated
buildings and foreclosed factories was like a beehive of illegal activity –drugs,
theft, power battles, you name it. This area wasn’t safe but it was cheap. For
Norman, this was all he could afford without an official government occupation,
but Bill didn’t care, he had his savings. He could just as easily live in the
gutter or a molten volcano. Bill was Level 0, with multiple abilities and
formidable power – super strength, super speed, he could even fly. He had no
need for food or water. He felt neither hot nor cold. None of the Level 4’s or 5’s
below would even consider messing with him, but Norman? They would gobble him
up. When Norman brought home the pepper spray, Bill had tasted it to see how it
felt. Not even a hint of spiciness flickered on his tongue. If Bill had seemed
downhearted by this, Norman was even more so. He left the pepper spray down on
the desk and there it has remained since.
The spray wouldn’t have helped
anyways. Bill was sure of that. He could hear the sounds of the streets echoing
in his brain everyday and every night. Sirens blaring a few blocks down,
children screaming, parent’s shouting at each other. The incessant noise never
stopped. Never stopped. Once there was a time when he would have done something
about it. Donned his meticulously clean black uniform of the Enforcers of
Justice, his black peaked cap with a shiny brass badge and patrolled the streets
keeping the peace between superpowered individuals. But not now. The uniform was
gone. The black badge gathering dust, the sole possession of Bill’s atop the
rickety wooden desk. None of it really mattered. It would all end up the same.
Even now he could hear a woman shrieking a couple of blocks from here. He tried
to drown it out but then he heard a familiar voice. It whimpered ‘pepper spray’
*
“So, tell me, Norman’ Dr. Lylak
encouraged ‘ What’s in the box?’
Norman looked down nervously at the
innocuous cardboard box on his lap. He gingerly pulled off the lid and peeked
inside. Inside there was … there was … nothing?
‘Nothing?’ inquired the doctor
puzzled. The purple hue receded from the room. The box on Norman’s lap
shimmered and dissipated into nothingness. Had it ever been real? Both glasses
of water had disappeared as well. Was anything here real? Was it all just an
illusion?
‘Nothing’ echoed Norman.
Dr. Lylak pinched the brow of his
nose and settled his sunglasses back on. He sighed heavily ‘Go home Norman.
We’ll try again tomorrow. It’s not good to keep your inner self bottled up, you
know?’
Norman gathered his stuff awkwardly,
an old raincoat that had seen better days, his hat and gloves. He turned back
to reach for the box, before recalling that it no longer existed. A figment of
his imagination, just like his dreams. He sheepishly thanked Dr. Lylak and left
down-heartened. Would he ever find his purpose in life? He knew there was
something out there waiting for him, so why can’t he view the contents of the
box?
The sun was setting as Norman exited
the building and the tall looming street lamps awoke from their slumber. A
brisk spring breeze reminded him that he was no longer sitting in a comfortable
office and he drew his coat close. He had a long walk ahead of him to his apartment
in the more affordable part of town. As he walked, the street lamps became more
dispersed, replaced by harsh neon lights. Graffiti encroached like spiders on
every brick, window and door with threats, lewd promises and more. Dogs
barked, car alarms blared, glass smashed. Norman hummed to himself,
trying to drown out all the noise, each sound certainly attributed to some
illicit act as Norman’s imagination went wild. ‘C’mon’ he reassured himself ‘Only
a couple of blocks from home’
Suddenly, an ear piercing scream
shook Norman from his imaginings. Up ahead, Norman could see a young woman
being dragged into a back-alley by a large ape-like man. His hands were the
size of shovels, hard and jagged like the shell of a crab. ‘Help me!’ screamed
the woman, struggling in vain, before his giant paw covered her face and dragged
her into the darkness.
Norman steadied his nerves. Was he
really seeing this? Was he really about to do this? What exactly was he
supposed to do? He looked down to see
his feet were already in motion.
‘Hey!’ He quickened his pace.
‘Hey you!’ Norman broke into a
sprint.
‘LET HER …’
Norman stopped short. The man looked
a lot bigger in the close confines of the alleyway. Clearing seven foot, even
while slouching, he dwarfed Norman. His broad shoulders caused the fire escape
to creak as he brushed up against it. The girl was a lot taller too; she stood
a good foot over Norman, and seemed rather calm for someone who had just been
dragged into a dark alcove. Her body wretched and shifted, her face elongated
and her teeth sharpened. She hissed in laughter revealing a large reptilian
head with huge protruding eyes and a flickering tongue.
Norman turned to run, but the
lizard-girl was too quick, darting around him to block off his path.
‘Well, look at thisssss’ she hissed
‘My knight in ssshining armour.’
‘Stay back!’ yelled Norman, his
quaking voice unmasking any false pretensions of confidence that he would try
to feign.
‘Little guy’s got spunk’ growled the
large man ‘You sure he’s not Level 2?’
‘Ain’t no level 2s down here, Mort.
They all up in the clouds, in the rich part of town. Like they too good f’us.
No, he smell like five f’me. Whatcha gonna do, boy? Blow some bubbles at me?
‘I’ll … I’ll call for enforcement’
said Norman, visibly shaking at this point.
‘Oh, ain’t no Blackcaps, this side
of the track, boy. They only look out f’themselves, them rich boyssss.
They ain’t never come down this way. Ain’t that right, Mort?’
‘Right’ grinned the giant, revealing
a set of chunky yellow teeth. His concerns eased, Mort reached out to grab
Norman with one large sweaty paw. Norman closed his eyes ‘If only I brought
that damn pepper spray’ he whispered. He braced himself for what was oncoming.
And braced. And braced.
He slowly peeked out one eye to see
Mort’s massive hand hovering in place above his head. He opened his eyes and
turned around to see Bill standing there, still in his bathrobe and fluffy pink
slippers. He held Mort’s arm in a vice-like grip. Mort flailed and swung his
free limb in a vicious arc at Bill, who didn’t even flinch, taking the full
impact of the blow right on his chin. Bill calmly stroked his stubbled chin, as
if he were brushing off a cobweb, before coolly back-handing Mort, sending him
flying into a nearby dumpster in a cloud of tin cans and old newspapers.
‘Did someone say pepper spray?’ he
said coolly, tossing the container to Norman, who fumbled with the trigger
momentarily before unleashing the spray right into the lizard-girl’s large
yellow eyes.
She hissed even louder than the
canister of spray and tried to scurry off in the opposite direction, but quick
as a flash Bill had rounded her as easily as she had cornered Norman. She gasped
as he grabbed her round her scaly neck and carried her up into the air.
‘You alright Norman?’ Bill sounded concerned.
“I’m okay. Just a bit shaken’ spoke
Norman, trying to sound calmer than he was.
“No harm in being shaken’ replied
Bill, passing over Norman’s head back to Mort, where he proceeded to
demonstrate what he meant by shaking him violently to wake him up. ‘Might keep
you from doing something stupid in future’
‘It wasn’t stupid. It was ..’
‘Heroics?’ interjected Bill ‘ You
could have been killed. You’ve got to take care of yourself’
‘Some of us care about more than
just ourselves’ Norman said defiantly ‘Maybe others need to remember that’
“What are you saying Norman?’ said
Bill, floating down towards him, still clutching the two would-be assaulters.
‘All day long you mope around on the
couch when you could be doing so much more.’ pushed Norman. Bill needed to hear
this.
‘More’ said Bill, shaking his head
‘Everybody’s always wanting more, Norm, but they never tell you what to
do when it gets too much? Do you have any idea what it's like to be me? I don’t
eat. I don’t sleep. Time goes by so slowly. You start to miss
those ... little things. You know, when you can take the full blast of a
nuclear reactor, it’s hard to feel any sensation at all anymore- the breeze
blowing in your hair right now might as well be a gale force storm to me. These
slippers may as well be made of concrete for all I care. I mean, it’s hard for
me to appreciate life, when there’s not much I can do to enjoy it. Sometimes, I
want to just end it all ... but I don’t even know how I could do that.’
Norman was taken aback. He knew his
friend was unhappy, but this? How could he have been so blind as to not see it,
to not be there for his friend? Dr. Lylak was right. He truly hadn’t been of
benefit to anyone. Here was someone who needed him all along. He was right
under his nose and Norman hadn’t even noticed.
‘C’mon buddy. Let’s go home.’ Norman
suggested. It seemed as if his friend was more in need of rescuing than him.
“Sure thing’ Bill replied ‘Won’t be
a sec’
In a blur of light blue and pink, he
disappeared with the criminals and re-appeared almost instantaneously.
‘So’ said Norman ‘if you can’t feel
those slippers, why do you wear them?
‘I dunno’ replied Bill sheepishly ‘I
guess I just think they’re cute.’
*
Back at home, Norman showed Bill all
the artwork he had done over the years, whenever he was feeling down on his
luck. He pulled out a large dusty cardboard box from under his bed where
he kept his most precious work.
‘So, what’s in the box?’ asked Bill.
Norman emptied the contents onto the floor. Hundreds of drawings and comics he
had made spilled out onto the tiles.
“Cool’ said Bill, grabbing the
closest one.
‘What’s a superhero?’
