[This story doesn't have much of an A plot, if any. Or a
conventional B plot, for that matter. So you might wonder what I
could have written so much about; read it and find out... B-)

Since this story features two Loises and two Clarks (Don't
Panic -- there's not a clone in sight! Nor any time/dimensional
travel), not to mention Jimmy, Perry and Superman, you might
become confused at times as to just who's doing what where and
unto whom. I've tried to make the text as unambiguous as
possible, but... In any case, characters with their names in
quotes are the film versions. If you _still_ can't tell who's
who, let me know.


Notes as to where the idea for the story came from are at the
end -- PA]


COUCH POTATOES
or
Ourselves As Others See Us ...

by Phil Atcliffe <Phillip.Atcliffe@uwe.ac.uk>
Rated PG
Submitted September 1997


The tapes were ready. The VCR was ready. The popcorn was almost
ready. Even the weather was co-operating: it was grey, wet and
dull outside, but not too rough. All in all, Lois thought, it was
a perfect day to be indoors and shut out the world, without any
great risk of storm and tempest to call Clark away.


Once he got here, that is.


After an unusually strenuous week, even by their standards,
Lois and Clark had decided to spend Sunday afternoon and evening
relaxing in one of their favourite ways: "veging out", watching
movies together at Lois' place, complete with popcorn, soda and
disrespectful comments. Some of their colleagues at the Daily
Planet had termed it "MST3K-ing" when they heard about this
pastime, but Lois had been relaxing in this manner long before
"Mystery Science Theater 3000" had hit the airwaves, and Clark
had found it to be a terrific way to cope with the stresses of
the big city -- not to mention his other life. It had always been
fun, and it had only got better as he and Lois became closer.
These days, now that they were engaged and Lois knew about his
"relationship" to Superman, it was way up there on his list of
the Top Ten Ways to Spend a Day Off.


Or so he said when they arranged this yesterday.


'So where *is* he?'


Lois looked at her watch yet again. 1:15 p.m. Clark, usually
very punctual, was now 15 minutes late. With anyone else, Lois
wouldn't have been worried; unfortunately, in Clark's case, if he
didn't arrive exactly on time, it was all too likely that he'd
had to fly off on some mission or other, and no-one, least of all
him, could guess when he'd be back. And they'd both been looking
forward to this *so much...*


But then, just as she had begun to work herself up to curse the
world, the Fates and all the crooks, disasters and victims who
were conspiring to ruin their afternoon, she heard a familiar
knock on the door. She rushed over and looked through the
peep-hole; saw, to her relief and delight, that it *was* Clark;
and began to undo the various locks and chains.


He was standing in the hallway, waiting the obligatory ten to
fifteen seconds while the usual clicks, clunks and rattles
announced that Lois was unlocking the door. He was used to this
short wait; in a strange way, it was almost precious to him. He
could have come through the outside window, no trouble, and saved
time doing it, but having Lois open the front door for him, and
the look on her face when she did so, had become something
important and meaningful to him. It was, he fancied, symbolic:
she opened her door to him as she had come to open the barriers
that she kept between herself and the world, letting him discover
her inner self. And to him, Clark, rather than to Superman.
'Okay, so I'm a hopeless romantic,' he thought. 'She knows that;
she *likes* it...'


The door swung open and Lois grabbed his arm, yanking him
inside with a happy smile on her face. The grab turned into a
hug, and the hug into a kiss. Once their lips parted, she said,
slightly breathlessly, "Where have you *been?* I was getting
worried..."


Clark let her go and moved over to the coffee table, putting a
plastic bag down on it. He looked... odd. A little bit sheepish,
and slightly puzzled on top of that. "Yeah... Sorry about that.
I... I left my place about half-an-hour ago to go get some tapes.
And... and I found a new store renting videos a couple of blocks
away."


"So?"


"Well... it's funny. I said it was a new store because I've
never been in it before. But it didn't look new at all.
'Well-worn' is the word that comes to mind. Kinda shabby, in
fact. But the funny thing is, I don't remember ever seeing it
there before, and I thought I knew the neighbourhood pretty well.
And then, when I looked inside..."


"Clark, you're not making too much sense here. What's the
problem, and why did it make you late?"


He didn't answer her question directly. Instead, he pointed at
the bag that he had just put down. "Take a look at what I rented
from this store."


She went over to the coffee table and opened the bag. Inside
was an ordinary-looking tape, nothing special about it. The box
was bright orange and only had the name of the store on it, so
she opened it... and saw the title.


"*'Superman'?*! Clark..." She looked up at him, now equally
puzzled.


"Yeah... Weird, huh? That's what took me so long: I couldn't
work out where this came from, and I wasn't quite game enough to
rent it... until I realised that someone *else* could walk in off
the street and take it home for a few bucks. Fortunately, this
was the only copy that the store had... although the guy behind
the counter did say that he was expecting to get in copies of the
other *three* films in the series next week. He liked the second
one, but didn't seem to think that the others were much good,
though. Said that they downplayed your role too much."


"*My* role..? Who made these things?"


"That's the really odd part. That's a genuine, professional,
commercial videotape -- not bootleg or pirate stuff -- but
somehow all the studio details are blurred or defaced to the
point of illegibility. Even to my eyes. The only thing that's
readable is the name on the tape -- *and* the year in which the
film was supposedly released."


She looked at the tape. "*1978?* That's crazy! In 1978, you
were--"


"Twelve. Superman wouldn't even be *thought* of for another
fifteen years. I mean, I didn't even have all of my powers then.
I couldn't fly, I wasn't that much stronger or faster than
normal..."


"So what was somebody doing making movies about you then? And
as an adult?"


"Beats the heck out of me... Anyway, that's why I was late."


"Boy, when you find a reason not to turn up on time, you don't
fool around, do you?"


Clark recognised Lois' flippant tone as concealing, or trying
to, a mixture of surprise, annoyance and concern. It was easy to
recognise because he felt much the same way. He moved towards
Lois to reassure her, only to find that she had had the same
idea. They reassured each other by taking their time over a hug.


Lois, having had less time to brood over the puzzle, recovered
first. "Well, there's the TV, and the popcorn's ready, so let's
have a look!"


"Okay..."


Lois put the tape into the machine and they took up what had
become their usual veging-out positions: Clark sitting up one end
of the couch with an arm resting along its back and the popcorn
on his lap, and Lois leaning on him with her head on his shoulder
and her feet curled up on the cushions. Feeling the need for a
little more closeness, or possibly feeling that Clark might need
it, Lois reached up and pulled his arm down, wrapping it around
her and tucking his hand in hers.


After the usual beeps from the VCR, the film began. The TV
showed a set of curtains which drew back to reveal a small movie
screen. To the accompaniment of the sound of a projector starting
up, the screen lit up to show a black-and-white picture of a...
comic book?


"'Action Comics'? Hey, I've heard that name before," said Lois,
freezing the tape.


"Me, too," replied Clark. "A publisher from New York got on to
my agent a few months ago about putting out a comic featuring
Superman, and that's what they were going to call it. They're
still negotiating over it -- I'd like some editorial approval if
they're going to do fictional stories about me, which apparently
surprised them; they seem to think that I should be honoured by
their mere offer and let them do what they like in print."


"Ha! I know you were a comics fan as a kid, Clark, but have you
*seen* some of the stuff that gets published these days? It's all
weapons, angst and women with... with... impossible anatomy!"


"Yeah, I know. That's why I want to have some control. I don't
want Superman made out to be some psychopathic vigilante. And
then, of course, there's what they'd do to you..."


"Humph!" Lois snorted. "Just let them try..."


She started the tape again and a hand opened the book to show a
typical comic page. The camera zoomed in on one panel, which
showed a average-looking city building, circa 1940; the crude
artwork then changed to a more realistic filmed image. What
caught the reporters' eyes, however, was the large globe mounted
on top of the building with the rotating band around it lettered
with the words "Daily Planet".


"Hey, that's taken straight from the Planet masthead!"
commented Lois.


"Yeah, just like the globe outside the building. Didn't Perry
say something the other day about Mr. Stern wanting to put another
globe on top of the building, just like that?"


"Yeah, but he wasn't too wild about the idea. You know Perry:
the important thing about the Planet is what it prints, and
nothing else." She giggled. "He couldn't see the point. He said
that Superman already *knew* where the office was, so why spend
money on advertising that only he and a few people in planes or
helicopters would ever see?"


They laughed together at that and turned their attention back
to the TV. They had to rewind slightly to listen to a little
girl's voice tell them of the responsibilities of the Daily
Planet, a "great metropolitan newspaper", to the public during
the Great Depression. The year 1938, to be exact.


"1938?! What is this -- Superman meets Al Capone?"


"We already did that, remember -- or a reasonable facsimile,
anyway. Besides, Prohibition was over and Capone was in jail by
then. If this is set in 1938, it's more likely to be Superman
versus the Nazis."


"Oh, great! I had enough goose-stepping and creepy Gestapo
types in the Indiana Jones films. Not to mention those three
genuine Nazis that tried to nuke you, a while ago."


"True. Well, we can always fast-forward through those bits if
I'm right. Though I hope I'm *wrong*; this is odd enough without
having to put up with cliched villains."


The image had panned up from the "Planet" building as they
spoke, and now appeared to be moving out past the moon into
space-- a rather weird kind of space, full of fiery sparks and
funny-looking splashes of colour. This, they realised, must be
the credits, and so it proved. To a background of what Lois
called "anticipation music", various names, none of which either
of them recognised, zoomed into focus on the screen with an
audible whoosh. Then the music changed to a fanfare, and the
famous "S" shield appeared, followed by the title of the movie.


The after-the-title credits were more of the same: unfamiliar
names listing all the people needed in the business of making a
movie, and the couple on the couch were left none the wiser as to
how someone had managed to make a film about Superman fifteen
years before there *was* a Superman.


Lois thought that she had the theme music, which she rather
liked, figured out. "See, Clark, the anticipation music is
obviously the build-up to you changing into Superman, the fanfare
is for the actual switch of identities and you taking off, and
what follows is for Superman being heroic."


"I'll take your word for it. Real life doesn't include
background music. Except, maybe, when I kiss you..."


"Oh, really, you incurable romantic, you..." Lois had heard
this from Clark before, and couldn't quite make up her mind
whether it was silly or wonderful. She decided to make another
attempt to find out. "Wanna play a little tune?"


He did. They did. They managed not to spill the popcorn.


The journey through space on the TV finally seemed to have
reached a destination, namely a red star which grew to dominate
the screen. The camera continued to zoom in, and another point of
light appeared near the star. This turned out to be a planet, the
surface of which looked to be covered in... well, it was either
mountains, or ice, or a spectacular new form of architecture --
possibly all three. As the image moved in even further, the
background music, which had begun as low, portentous and
brooding, swelled to a crescendo that was both dramatic and
somehow tragic.


Lois turned to Clark. "Krypton?"


"Beats me. I guess so, but... I wouldn't really know. All I
know about Krypton is what I was told by the Globe. I do know
that the planet didn't look like *that* from space -- it was
relatively normal as these things go. The sun's right, but who
knows about the rest?"


He would have said more, but was interrupted by the first
spoken line of the film: "This is no fantasy!"


The shot pulled back to reveal the speaker, a tall-looking,
heavy-set, white-haired man in a black robe with the familiar
pentagonal shield on it in white, carrying a long, glassy rod.


"Who's that? And why's he wearing Superman's emblem?" whispered
Lois.


"Dunno. He might be a relative of mine. Remember, the shield is
the El family arms, or something like that. It's pure luck that
it looks like an S. I wonder how they knew that..."


The man continued speaking and it became apparent that he was
serving as the equivalent of a prosecutor in the trial of two men
and a woman for treason. All three were clad in something like
black leather and were lit in such a way that Lois decided that
she would not care to meet any of them in a dark alley -- or even
a well-lit one.


"Ah, I think we may have met the bad guys," said Clark. "I
mean, those three have got to be there for some reason."


"Either that, or they're setting things up for the sequel.
Wasn't 1978 about when Hollywood got its most recent bout of
sequel-itis? The one that hasn't finished yet?"


The defendants were found guilty by the "Council", a collection
of grotesque-looking images projected on the walls of the trial
chamber. The prosecutor had to cast the final vote to make the
verdict unanimous, thereby earning the enmity of the chief
villain, "General Zod", who vowed revenge on him *and* his heirs.


"Uh-oh... we're *definitely* going to see those guys again..."
muttered Lois.


The three traitors were sentenced to be confined in the
"Phantom Zone", which turned out to be a flying sheet of glass or
crystal which somehow swooped down on the criminals and
imprisoned them in itself. Neither Clark nor Lois were paying
that much attention, though, because the prosecutor had been
named. He was indeed a member of the house of El -- Zod had
called him "Jor-El".


"Jor-El?" whispered Clark in amazement. "Lois... that's meant
to be my real father!"


"Really?" she whispered back. "Wow... Does he... does he look
anything like your father?" She paused for a moment, then went
on, hesitantly. "Um... would you know? I mean, do you know what
your father looked like?"


"Well, yes and no... I've seen that hologram of him that the
Globe showed me. That guy's a little on the heavy side, and the
white hair is wrong... but I guess he's good enough for
Hollywood, anyway."


"Now I know I wanna see this Globe of yours in action." She
looked up at him. "There's so much I don't know about you, and I
want to. I want to know it *all*."


"I don't know much more than you do, Lois. And I don't really
care all that much -- here and now, with you, is more important
to me than a long-dead world." He paused to hug her again. "But,
okay, the next time we're in Smallville, I'll show you. I *think*
we'll both fit in the tree house... if we stay nice and close."
He smiled at the thought, and so did she.


The Council members were revealed to be more than just huge
heads as they gathered around Jor-El, now dressed in white with a
black shield -- as were the other Councillors, except that their
shields were different. But they weren't there to congratulate
him on successfully convicting Zod and his minions or anything
like that; the discussion was quiet but heated, and it became
apparent that Jor-El knew what was going to happen to Krypton but
no-one else believed him. Indeed, the Council members seemed more
concerned with stopping Jor-El from warning anyone and creating a
panic. The actor came across on the screen as calmly reasonable,
but filled with an inner sorrow, as though he knew what the
reaction to his warning would be. In the end, out-voted and
without a single ally, Jor-El agreed that neither he nor his wife
would leave Krypton.


"Hey!" yelled Lois, sitting up. "Where does he get off,
promising his *wife* won't try to leave? The world's about to
blow up and he's condemning her to death! What is this, the
planet of the super MCP's?"


"I don't think so, Lois. Look, there are women Council
members."


"Yeah," said Lois disgustedly. "And how many of them have
actually *said* anything? Super-simperers!" She turned to poke a
finger at his chest. "Let me tell you something, farm boy: don't
expect me to let you get away with any of that MCP junk when *we*
get married!"


"Lois..." Clark replied in a pained, how-did-we-get-into-this
tone. "If I was a male chauvinist pig, from Krypton *or*
Smallville, would I have put up with *you* all this time? This
isn't real!" He pointed at the TV. "That *isn't* the real
Krypton; he's *not* my father; it's a movie! And I'm beginning to
wish that I'd never found it!"


Lois looked apologetic. "I'm sorry, Clark... I guess I got a
bit carried away. It's... it's just that, okay, this is a movie,
but how often do you come across one of *those* all about the man
you're going to marry? And there is so much about you that I
don't know -- that we may *never* know -- and, I guess, this got
a bit too real."


Clark smiled at her. "Okay... but now I'm gonna make sure that
I show you the Globe sometime soon. I want you to know what
little *I* know about what the *real* Krypton was like. I don't
want you having the wrong idea of the planet -- it was bad enough
putting up with your... forceful opinions of Smallville."


"Okay, okay..."


While they were arguing, Jor-El had returned home to his wife
and child and told them the Council's decision. There had been
some talk which they had missed, but they decided not to rewind
the tape just yet because the baby had just been placed into what
looked like half of an overgrown Christmas tree ornament. Lois
was reminded of her prized Christmas star that Clark had given
her two years ago, saying that Superman had carved it out of an
asteroid -- which, of course, he had. The "ornament" rose to meet
its other half, sealing the baby in a spherical chamber inside
the multi-pointed star shape. Jor-El moved over to a control
panel and operated something.


"Is that the spaceship? Your ship didn't look anything like
that."


"I know. But the production designers seem to have gone
overboard on the crystal motif for everything from Krypton, so I
guess it matches with the architecture and those rods and all
that. Look -- it *is* the spaceship: there it goes..."


On the screen, the ship began to rise. It started slowly and
then accelerated, crashing through the glassy roof panel and out
into the red sky.


"Ouch," muttered Lois as the shards of the roof fell to the
ground. "Those splinters... So much for safety in the home. He
*must* be certain that the place is about to go Boom!"


If so, he was right, because Krypton was rocked by a series of
earthquakes and eruptions. There was panic in the "streets" and
in the Council chamber as the truth of Jor-El's prediction was
forcibly impressed upon the sceptics. The huge buildings began to
collapse and break up; people were hurled about and thrown into
giant abysses, falling out of sight. The planet and everything on
it was dying violently.


Lois felt Clark tense slightly behind her. She realised that
she wasn't the only one to be taking this movie a bit too
seriously -- although, in Clark's case, she knew that he wanted
to help the people on the screen as he would have in a similar
situation on Earth. She just wished that this whole sequence
would end. She had never been a fan of disaster movies because
they went on and on and *on*, showing every single catastrophe
that the writers could think of and that the SFX people could
work out how to present; this part of this weird film was just
the same, and she sent the TV a mental 'Get On With It!', in the
hope that wishful thinking might, for once, do some good.


It seemed to work: the picture cut to a shot of the spaceship
fleeing the doomed planet, which finally, almost gracefully,
exploded.


"I've seen *that* shot before," said Lois. "That looks just
like the Death Star blowing up in Star Wars."


"Yeah... well, that would make sense. Star Wars was released in
1977, so if this came out the next year, it'd be about right.
State-of-the-art effects for their time, both of them."


"Came out *where?*"


"I don't know..."


The TV now showed the spacecraft on its travels, flashing
across a series of shots of "outer space" like those that had
featured in the credits. Intercut with these were pictures of the
child inside the craft. He seemed to be in some sort of
hibernation, and the voice-overs in the background indicated that
he was also receiving an extensive education while he slept. The
trip must have taken some time, because the child, a baby at its
start, had grown into a healthy-looking toddler with a shock of
black hair by the time the ship approached a certain blue-green
planet and entered its atmosphere.


The heat of re-entry (although, of course, it wasn't a
*re*-entry) shrivelled and blackened the crystalline craft as it
streaked across the sky and over a battered farm pick-up before
ploughing into the ground. The pick-up, its driver understandably
startled by the strange object whizzing over his head, went into
a skid and blew a tyre.


As the driver regained control and braked the truck to a stop,
Lois' mind flashed back to the weird events of a year or so ago,
when she and Clark had been taken back in time by H.G. Wells to
prevent Tempus from killing Clark as a baby. She remembered
how, after they had thwarted the villain together, Clark had
flown off to create the "light in the sky" that led his parents
to discover him, as a baby, in his spaceship. She guessed that
this was the film's version of the same event, except that
neither she, an adult Clark nor Tempus was involved this time.


She was right: the driver of the pick-up and the woman with him
called each other "Jonathan" and "Martha". The odd thing, though,
was that both of the "Kents" were, or looked to be, considerably
older than the real ones, even today. Lois had seen photos of the
Kents with baby Clark -- had seen *them* in 1966 -- and they had
both been in their late twenties or early thirties, young and
healthy; the perfect age, really, for dealing with a small child,
even one who turned up in the incredible manner that Clark had.


"Clark... those people are meant to be your *parents?*"


"Looks like it."


"But... but, they're so... *old!*"


"I know. I don't think Dad would be flattered -- I *know* Mom
wouldn't!"


Lois could understand that. What she couldn't understand was
how he could take it all so calmly -- until she remembered just
who the *child* was supposed to be...


Jonathan Kent got out of the truck, saw the flat and kicked it
in exasperation. Only then did he finally notice Martha staring
at the huge rut gouged in the nearby field by the spaceship, and
the crater at its far end. The film cut to a shot of the rim of
the crater, with the Kents looking over its edge...


And there, stark naked in the smoking remains of the spaceship,
was the toddler. He smiled happily and raised his hands to the
amazed couple.


"Ohhhhh... isn't he adorable?" cooed Lois. "What a cutie...
were you that cute as a little boy, Clark?" Then she remembered
looking after Clark as a baby, back in 1966 -- 'Well, yes, you
were,' she thought. 'Only more so.' She put on her best
reporter's poker face, but giggled inside herself. 'And you're
even cuter now, big boy...'


Clark didn't notice her sudden silence; he was taken aback, as
always, by Lois' rare plunges into gooeyness over children. For
someone who freely admitted that she generally preferred children
to be somebody else's problem, she was remarkably prone to going
all slushy when she was actually confronted by a small child,
especially a little boy. Feeling that he had to answer her, but
at the same time certain that this was one of those female
questions that his dad said were designed to keep men in their
place, he settled for, "You'll have to ask my mom about that."
'Just not until I have to go save someone in, say, New Zealand,
please...'


If the Martha Kent on the screen was anything to go by, his
mother would agree with Lois; she was instantly besotted by the
child, whom she saw as a gift from Heaven. Her husband was rather
more stolid about it, being preoccupied with changing the truck's
burst tyre, but looked to be already more than half-resigned to
his wife's determination to keep the little boy.


Martha warned her husband to take it easy changing the tyre;
apparently this Jonathan Kent had a heart condition. 'Uh-oh,'
thought Lois, 'I can see what's coming here...' She looked up at
Clark, who was watching the screen impassively; if he'd picked up
on it too, he wasn't reacting -- yet. But then her attention was
caught by Jonathan when, in mock exasperation, he referred to his
wife as "Martha Clark Kent".


"'Clark'..? Clark, is that right?"


"Is what right? Oh, my mom's maiden name. Yeah, that's right.
That's where my first name comes from. Didn't you know?"


Lois muttered something about well, of course she didn't know
or she wouldn't have asked, but didn't pursue the matter. To be
honest, she was more intrigued than annoyed. What *else* was this
incredible movie going to tell her about the guy behind her? She
could hardly wait..


Enthralled by the idea of more fantastic revelations, she
missed seeing the truck slip off the jack. Jonathan didn't seem
hurt, although Martha was frightened for him, and Lois couldn't
tell if he was trapped or not. It didn't matter, anyway, because
the little boy lifted up the end of the truck to release his
soon-to-be-father, standing there holding the back end of the
pick-up off the ground with a wide smile on his face. His
would-be parents were stunned by this casual display of strength
but, in what Lois, self-confessed "city girl supreme", considered
to be true Corn Country fashion, said nothing -- not so much as
the "Oh, my..." with which Jonathan had greeted the spaceship.
They just looked at the blackened rut in the field, and back at
the boy...


The film cut to a football field. A team and a squad of
cheerleaders came in from training, plonking down pieces of kit
on a bench as they passed. A dark-haired water-boy moved around,
tidying up. A pretty red-haired girl was carrying a pile of
pom-poms, and he went over and offered to look after them for
her. It was immediately obvious that several years had passed and
the boy was meant to be a teenage Clark Kent, but neither
reporter could work out who the red-head was until "Clark" called
her "Lana".


Clark's eyebrows rose. "Oh, boy..." he murmured to himself.
Lois had an odd jealous streak regarding his old girlfriends --
if the schoolmates that he had occasionally dated and taken to
dances could be said to warrant that title -- and he didn't look
forward to telling her more about Lana Lang than what she already
knew. Not that there was anything to tell, really, but try to get
Lois to believe that... This girl didn't look much like the real
Lana, who was not only blonde but had been rather gawky at that
age, but she was attractive, and that was all that was needed for
the Lane Inquisition to break out the thumbscrews.


Lana shyly invited Clark to come with her and some others to go
listen to some records. Clark, equally shy but obviously pleased
to be asked, thought it was great. Unfortunately, one of the
football team -- a thick-set, sandy-haired guy named Brad --
didn't like that idea, so he dumped Clark's carefully-arranged
piles of gear onto the ground and dragged Lana, reluctant but
trapped by both Brad and peer pressure, off to his car. The girls
in the car waved goodbye to Clark -- all very friendly, but still
leaving him to clean up on his own -- and the jalopy drove off.


Clark looked mad enough to kill, but controlled himself --
almost. He reached down and picked up a football, and kicked it
not a bad punt. The coach should have been watching; it went
straight over the posts... at the other end of the field! And
kept going, and going, still rising, right out of sight.


"Ouch... don't you just *know* that he's wishing that he was
kicking that creep instead of a ball?" Lois looked pained, and
then a thought struck her. "Wait a minute: you played football at
school, didn't you? I know you did -- I've seen your trophies."


"Yeah, I did -- after a lot of persuasion. I didn't really want
to play, because I was afraid that I'd hurt somebody, but the
coach got all my friends to pester me about it, so I gave in. It
turned out okay -- we played a passing game rather than a running
one, so I was able to keep away from most of the tacklers.
Everyone at school was really pleased, except the coach; he said
that he didn't think that I was giving everything that I had to
the game -- which, of course, I wasn't! But when we won the state
final fifty to nothing, nobody really paid that much attention to
him."


"What about... whatshisname, Brad? Is he based on anyone real?"


"Hmmm... no, I don't think so," said Clark, slowly and
thoughtfully. "He acts like the cliched
I'm-quarterback-so-I'm-God type that you read about, but Mark,
our quarterback, was a really nice guy. He was even a bit like
your friend Joe. And bullies never managed to get anywhere much
at Smallville High. We had a few, but they used to get into deep
trouble with the other kids, especially the football team. Or, if
they were sneaky enough to keep a low profile, something awful --
*really* embarrassing -- used to happen to them eventually, and
they'd get caught red-handed. They usually straightened up after
that, or left. Funny, how that always happened..."


"I'll just bet..." muttered Lois, poking him gently in the
ribs. "Hey, how come *you* weren't quarterback?"


"I was, in junior teams, but the coach thought I was better at
receiving passes than throwing them, so he made me reserve
quarterback, in case Mark got injured -- which he didn't -- and
told Mark to pass to me as much as he could."


"Didn't that make you unpopular?"


"A little bit, for a while. The other guys used to kid me that
they'd been made into the Kent Protection Squad, and the coach
wouldn't have cared if I was the most hated guy in school, so
long as Mark and I went on making touchdowns. But Mark and I put
our heads together and realised that we could use this: he would
pass to me as much as possible in the early part of the game, so
that the other team would catch on and start to chase me -- and
then Mark would pass or give the ball to someone else. *Anyone*
else, so long as he was unmarked. And it worked! We confused them
rotten! I think *everyone* on our team made a touchdown that
year. 'Spoofin' Smallville', they called us..."


Lois, never a great football fan, had had enough. Back to the
TV: young Clark was now seen running -- really running, as the
camera pulled back to show him racing a train and keeping up with
it easily. He was obviously enjoying himself, and he waved to a
little girl on the train, who waved back. She tried to tell her
parents about the boy outside, but neither her mother or father
took her seriously -- or looked out the window. Her mother made
an all-too-typical parental remark about what an imagination she
had, which is when Lois' eyes widened -- the little girl was
supposed to be *her*, as a child!


"Hey, she's kinda cute..." teased Clark, rewinding the tape to
get a better look at the girl. 'Sauce for the goose...' he
thought. "Yeah, I like the look of her. Definite fence-post
material. Give her a few years..." He started to kiss Lois on the
top of her head, gradually moving down to her forehead and then
off to one side to nibble her ear, in between continuing to
murmur, "...and... she'll... almost... but not quite... be... as
cute... as you!"


Lois shivered as he kissed her ear a final time and relaxed
back on the couch, hugging her as he did so. 'Oh well,' she
thought, 'I shouldn't be jealous of myself -- even if it is
Hollywood's version of me as an eight-year-old.' Then she sat up,
saying in a shocked,
not-quite-sure-if-I-should-be-insulted-or-laughing voice: "What
was that? *Fence-post* material?!"


Clark laughed and stopped the tape. "Yeah, fence-post material.
It's an old saying of my dad's -- it may even date back to *his*
dad. Calling a girl that means that she's so attractive that her
father -- well, originally, her father; I guess, these days,
maybe she should have it herself. Anyway, *somebody's* gonna need
their own special fence post -- I always imagined it to have a
carved handle, like a baseball bat -- to beat off the boys!


"Now, *you*," he continued, kissing her again, "have always
been fence-post material -- whole fence material, if it comes to
that. And I can think of a few people that I would have liked to
work over with a fence post..." But, in lieu of having a
convenient fence post to hand, along with any or all of Messrs
Luthor, Scardino, Deter and a certain slimy Frenchman, he settled
for turning the movie back on.


Mollified, amused and pretty sure that she could guess who
Clark's would-be victims were, Lois watched as the teenage Clark
poured on even more speed, beating the train to a crossing by a
fraction of a second in his own form of "Chicken", then raced up
the road towards the Kent farm. The camera pulled back to show a
car coming up another road. It pulled up outside the farm
gateway, where Clark was leaning back on the fence, smiling to
himself. It was, of course, Brad's jalopy with "the gang" in it;
they were amazed to see Clark who, when asked how he got home so
fast, merely replied, "I ran."


The adult Clark winced -- that was *not* an answer likely to
endear his screen self to his schoolmates, particularly
unpleasant, bull-headed jocks like Brad. And he was right: the
car shot away in a shower of dust with Brad making loud comments
about "oddballs". The younger Clark was left to face his father.
Jonathan Kent was paternally forbearing with his special son,
realising that sometimes the frustration that Clark felt in
always hiding what he could do would boil over, but stressing
that those same special abilities should -- *must* -- be used for
a better purpose than merely starring on the football field.


Lois, who was the first to admit that she didn't have much
knowledge of either side of a father-son relationship, was
impressed by the actor playing Jonathan. Although he had only a
few lines to do it in, he managed to convey a sense of...
solidity, of firm support and unshakeable goodness, together with
a very deep love and understanding between himself and his son.
Which made it all the more shocking when he collapsed and died of
a heart attack, barely seconds after reassuring Clark and
reconciling him to his masquerade.


She had been expecting it at some point in the film, but had
still been caught unawares. She turned and put her arms around
Clark, not saying anything, just holding him and trying to convey
the message that she was there for him as he watched the funeral
of Jonathan Kent. Her eyes stung, but she refused to wipe them or
give in to any emotion because Clark might need her, right *now*.


Eventually, after his screen counterpart had lamented that all
his powers had been useless to help his father, he turned his
face to hers and kissed her forehead gently. "It's okay, Lois..."
he said quietly, "But, thank you. This will happen, one day; I
know that. But not today, I think, or for a while, God willing."


He hugged her, and she hugged back, resting her head on his
shoulder. In some ways, Clark's parents were closer to her than
her own, especially her father, and it would be a tragedy for
both of them when the time depicted on the TV did finally come.
Fortunately, as Clark had said, it probably wouldn't be soon --
the real Jonathan Kent wasn't as old as the film one, and had
looked as strong as an ox the last time that Lois had seen him.


To relieve the melancholy mood, she asked Clark, "When are you
going home next?"


"I hadn't really thought about it. I guess I could con Perry
into giving me the weekend off next week, if I wanted." He looked
at her and raised one eyebrow. "Maybe even both of us... wanna
come?"


"Yes. I'd like to see them again... and Smallville... and the
farm... and your tree house... and the Globe..."


"Okay. Let's try for that weekend, then. Of course, if we
really want to be sure that he'll let us go, we'll have to keep
him happy this week..."


"No problem!" chirped Lois, her mood much lightened by the
prospect. "All we have to do is come up with yet another red-hot
scoop from the team of Lane and Kent, peerless investigative
reporters for the greatest newspaper in the world. That's the
*least* of our difficulties..."


Clark wasn't so sure, but kept his peace lest she decide to
start working on this "red-hot scoop" then and there. He looked
back at the TV; while they'd been talking, he'd also kept half an
eye and ear on the film, in which his younger self had been
"called" in the middle of the night by a strange green crystal
from the bottom of the spaceship, which was kept hidden in the
barn. The crystal had apparently communicated something to him,
although the film was deliberately vague on how and what, and he
had decided to leave home, heading, as he told his tearful mother
amidst sweeping panoramas of wheat country plains -- Clark was
fairly sure that the film had been shot in Canada, and was a
little peeved that they hadn't used Kansas, since that's what it
was supposed to *be* -- "north".


"Clark" went north, all right -- *far* north. He was next seen
climbing across pack ice with the sun very low on the horizon. He
came to a stretch of water and paused, then reached into his pack
and took out the green crystal. He seemed to commune with it for
a moment, then raised his arm and threw it with super-strength
across the vista of ice and water.


The crystal landed on a patch of snow far from where it had
been released, rested there for a moment, then sank into it,
disappearing from sight. The water surrounding the floe began to
boil, and a series of long, pointed columns of a white, shiny
material started to rise up from the sea, interlocking with one
another to form a giant, gleaming shape, an artificial mountain
of crystal.


"What is *that?*"


"Your guess is as good as mine. It looks Kryptonian --
according to this version of Krypton, anyway -- so I guess that
the green crystal was programmed to build something just like
home. I wonder what it's supposed to be made of. Not ice, I hope,
or that entire building won't last past mid-summer..."


Young Clark was next shown climbing into the structure. He
looked around in bewilderment at the steps, platforms and canyons
that made up the inside of the place, then moved over to a
central, raised dias, a collection of crystals and hollow tubes.


He picked up a single crystal spike that was lying on top of part
of the structure and, after some hesitation, dropped it into one
of the tubes. For a moment, nothing happened, then an image began
to form in the air in front of the dias. It was Jor-El.


Jor-El began by welcoming his son and explaining who he was,
and who and what the boy was. Whatever was producing the image
was more than just a simple projector, because it could sense and
answer questions, and Clark had plenty.


As part of their "conversation", the image of Jor-El described
the crystalline building as a "fortress of... solitude". The real
Clark's jaw dropped at that; so did Lois', and when she turned to
ask him about it, his expression made her burst out laughing. He
looked down at her, one eyebrow raised and a pained look on his
face, and she managed to control herself, at least partially.
"Boy," she giggled, "That's some tree house you got there, Kent."


Clark raised his eyes to the heavens and said nothing.


Jor-El's face grew bigger and hazier, until it dissolved into
yet another space sequence. The actor's voice rose and fell over
the blobs and washes of colour, describing his son's
extra-ordinary abilities on Earth, considering their possible
effects on the world and its peoples, discussing aspects of the
human condition that Kal-El should know to be able to use his
great power wisely, and, finally, laying down certain strictures
as to what it should *not* be used for.


"Wow... Kryptonian college. 'Man and Superman 101', huh?"
commented Lois.


And that was the impression that the sequence gave -- a long
(*years*-long, the dialogue implied) and detailed course on how
to be a Kryptonian amongst humans, with special emphasis on the
ethical use of great power in a world of much weaker, but equally
worthy people.


"I guess so. I wouldn't know," Clark replied drily. "*I* went
to MidWestern State."


Eventually, the sequence ended and the picture became a long
shot across the interior of the Fortress, showing Superman, in
full costume for the first time, in the distance.


"Finally!" snorted Lois. "I was starting to wonder if he was
going to turn up! Or was this going to be the film equivalent of
an origin issue in comics -- you know, where they spend 20 pages
setting up the supporting cast, the major villain and the
sub-plots for the first six issues, and only *then* do they get
around to the guy that the story's about."


Superman rose from the crystalline platform on which he was
standing and flew straight towards the camera, only banking away
at the last second.


"Hmmm... slightly wonky take-off, wouldn't you say, Clark?"


"A little, but that's probably the hardest bit for the FX guys
to make look right. The actual flying looks pretty good."


"Claa-arrk... sometimes, you're so reasonable, it's
infuriating!"


The scene now switched to a city skyline, which both Clark and
Lois easily recognised as that of New York. It seemed, however,
that the Big Apple was doubling for Metropolis in this film,
because suddenly an un-named, off-screen character was getting
out of a taxi in front of "the Daily Planet building". As Clark
had earlier, Lois, a native Metropolitan, bristled a bit at this
what was wrong with the *real* city? -- but didn't say
anything because she was waiting to see what the paper's offices
were like.


She soon found out: the screen now showed an image of a large,
open-plan office, as seen through the viewfinder of a camera.
Lois' first impression of the office was not favourable; being
used to the Planet's happy combination of old-world style and
comfort and high-tech equipment, the large open space, rather
sterile desks and total lack of computers did not impress her.


"Urrrggghhh... That's the 1970s, all right. Look at that
furniture. And typewriters? *No*, thank you..."


    The viewfinder swung around, finally coming to rest showing the
head of a young, dark-haired woman bent over a typewriter. A
voice called out, "Smile!" and the woman tossed her head,
flashing a professional but attractive smile at the camera, which
clicked.


     "Who is *that* supposed to be?" Lois wondered. "Not me, I
hope."


"Oh, I don't know. She's the nicest-looking woman that we've
seen so far." Lois merely glared at him, so Clark hastily
continued, "She's not as beautiful as you, of course, but who is?
You could do worse." He paused for a moment, weighing the
advisability of continuing before taking the plunge: "Hey, she's
better than Linda King, isn't she?"


Lois merely snorted at that, refusing to rise to the bait, and
concentrated on the TV, where she found that, as was quickly made
clear by the dialogue, the woman *was* "Lois Lane". The
photographer was "Jimmy Olsen", although the actor, who was
dark-haired, looked less like the real Jimmy than the screen
version of Lois resembled the woman sitting next to Clark.


"Lois" and "Jimmy" chatted a bit. Jimmy seemed normal enough,
maybe even a bit calmer (although that was relative) than their
own James Bartholomew, but Lois acted positively manic. The real
Lois did not like the way in which the dialogue kept making
oblique references to sex and gore, as though her film
counterpart spent all her time concentrating on sensational,
tabloid-style stories. She had just finished typing up one such
story -- about a serial killer -- and headed for a glass-walled
office at one end of the newsroom, labelled "Editor". In the room
were two men: one was tall, broad-shouldered and black-haired,
wearing a dark suit and hat and large, round glasses; the other,
a few years older and in his shirt sleeves, was shorter and
thinner, with an air of authority and bustle about him.


Lois recognised the actor in the suit as the same one who'd
been wearing the *other* suit a minute or two ago. Presumably,
this was Clark Kent as an adult. Which meant that the other man
had to be...


"Perry? That's meant to be *Perry?*" she laughed.


"Well, I think he'd like to have lost that much weight, and the
guy is frenetic enough. But what happened to Elvis? When I first
met Perry -- and you -- he used to talk about him all the time."


"You mean as opposed to now, when... oh, all of *twenty
minutes* can go by, some days, without a single word about The
King?"


"Something like that. Actually, he's toned that down a lot,
lately."


"Yeah, I noticed... it's either since we got engaged or since
Alice left, I'm not sure which. I guess he's had other things on
his mind."


"Perry" introduced "Lois", who had barged straight in, to
"Clark". He was pleased to meet her; she, totally preoccupied
with presenting her latest scoop to Perry and convincing him that
it not only didn't need editing, it should go on page one with a
banner headline, hadn't noticed Clark yet, nor did she until she
nearly spilt a bottle of soda over him.


The scene that followed, especially the dialogue, sent the
message that Clark had gone from being a teenage victim of
bullying to become a complete and total nerd -- clumsy,
ineffectual and self-effacing to the point of near-invisibility,
except when he made a fool of himself. Lois, by contrast, was
cynical, streetwise, self-opinionated, and amazed that anyone
like Clark could exist, much less survive in the big city and get
a job at the Daily Planet.


Clark grimaced. "Lois, I know you weren't exactly overwhelmed
with me when we first met. I know that you thought I was naive,
gullible, wet behind the ears, a hick, all that... But,
*please*... tell me I wasn't like *that!*"


"Okay, Clark, okay. Actually, you weren't anything like that
bad. Now, will *you* please tell me that I wasn't like *her!*
That woman is a sensation-seeking, sex-obsessed maniac!"


Clark stopped the tape and moved so that he could look into
Lois' eyes. "Well-ll..." he began, "she is like you, or what you
were like back then, in some ways. She's bright, energetic...
wrapped up in her work..." His tone became rueful. "...none too
impressed with Clark Kent, the new boy in town... except maybe
just a little, in spite of yourself." 'And,' he thought,
carefully keeping the idea and the grin it evoked from him out of
his face and voice, 'about to get the shock of her life.'


"She does seem to have a different attitude to what's news,
though," he went on. "I can't imagine you being quite so
enthusiastic about a sex killer story. *And* you can spell -- or
is it just that you know how to use a spell-checker? But I do
recognise the woman charging straight into Perry's office,
arguing for a page one banner headline..."


"Oooooohhh... I'll get you for that, Kent."


"Is that a threat or a promise?"


"Which would you prefer?"


"I'll *show* you what I would prefer..." And he did. Some time
later, when she was able to concentrate on other things again,
Lois decided that she preferred it, too...


The tape was started again. "Lois" was now steaming about the
new guy being assigned to the city beat -- *her* beat. Perry
countered her anger by reciting a catalogue of "Clark's" virtues,
most of which were boy-scoutish; the obvious implication was that
Lois had none of these good points.


The real Lois would never admit it, especially not to Clark,
but, deep inside her, she did recognise something of herself in
the film's portrayal. The difference was that the character on
the TV screen seemed to be an exaggeration, almost a parody, of
how she remembered herself before she met Clark -- for one thing,
she'd always had a lot more respect for Perry, even when he'd
partnered her with a "hack from Nowheresville", than that woman
did for her editor. She might have pursued this train of thought
further, but Perry finished up the list of Clark's excellences by
describing him as being the fastest typist that he'd ever seen.
The thought of Clark at a typewriter was irresistibly funny and
she burst out laughing, stopping the tape while she recovered.


"What's so funny?" Clark asked, looking at her bemusedly.


Lois took another few seconds to get over her laughing fit,
then managed to say, "Sorry, Clark... I just had this mental
image of you at one of those typewriters, banging away at
super-speed, sheets of paper flying... Have you ever used a
typewriter?"


"Actually, yes, a few years ago, when I was freelancing in
Europe. You're right, it was kinda funny. I wore out one really
old, dilapidated, mechanical typewriter completely -- the guy who
decided that it couldn't be fixed said that he'd never seen a
better example of metal fatigue. After that, they let me use an
electric one, which was an improvement, but it still jammed up
when I tried to type more than about 300 words a minute!"


"More than... *why* do I ask you these things? Now I'm gonna
have an inferiority complex for the next week!"


Clark reached over and took her chin in his hand, gently
turning her head to face his. "Hey," he said quietly, "you've got
nothing to feel inferior about, *partner.* I may be able to type
fast, but I learned a long time ago -- I even remember the very
wise woman who taught me -- that it's *what* you write, not how
much, that's important. And I know for a fact that we're the best
reporting *team* around. We do it together, remember?"


"I remember..." Lois replied, equally quietly. She hadn't
really meant the bit about the inferiority complex -- he was
Superman, for Pete's sake -- but Clark's understanding and loving
response made her feel, not for the first time, that she was the
luckiest woman on Earth. She kissed his hand lightly, wriggled
back into her comfortable position against his strong, broad
shoulder and reached for the popcorn bowl, serenely happy.


The scene with Lois and Clark moved out into the newsroom,
hammering home the contrast between Clark as Mr Goody-Two-Shoes,
a pleasant and likable klutz who was casually ignored by almost
everyone, and Lois the archetypal, wise-cracking newshawk. Both
of the real reporters were embarrassed by this, and it got worse
when "they" went out for lunch and were promptly mugged.


"Clark" now revealed further facets of "his" character -- not
only was he a nerd, he was a timid nerd, *and* the kind who tried
to talk a mugger out of taking his wallet with trite phrases
about social conditioning and self-worth. Naturally, it didn't
work.


"Lois" was having a hard time with this, mostly due to her
companion's attempts to keep her out of the line of fire of the
mugger's gun. When the thief had first appeared, she would have
run, but Clark wouldn't let her. Then she got dragged into a maze
of back alleys, with Clark looming in front of her so that she
couldn't get past him. She finally got to do more than stand
there when the mugger demanded her purse, which she dropped just
out of his reach. He bent down to get it and she kicked him,
hard. He fell backwards and the gun went off. Lois would have
been hurt, possibly killed, but Clark, in a neat piece of
slow-motion photography, reached over and caught the bullet.


He fell back against the wall, feigning unconsciousness. The
mugger, certain that he'd shot the man, ran off. Lois, thinking
the same thing, was almost distraught until Clark "woke up",
saying that he wasn't hurt but must have fainted. She was
disgusted and went to get her purse. Clark opened his hand,
showing the bullet, and his whole expression changed from a
nervous stare to a smug smile, which Lois missed completely.


As they left, Clark gave Lois a little homily on not taking
risks, which she ignored -- 'Well, *that's* in character,'
thought the real Clark to himself -- until he came out with an
exact description of what was in the purse that she had fought so
hard to save, nearly getting shot for her pains. She was
astonished by this, but Clark tried to laugh it off as a lucky
guess.


"Ohhhh, sloppy, Kent, sloppy..." teased the genuine Lois.
Clark's mouth quirked, but he said nothing. He agreed with her
but, remembering some of the awful excuses that *he'd* had to use
at times, he was in sympathy with his counterpart on the TV.


After the mugging fiasco, it was a welcome change when the
movie cut to a tracking shot of a short, fat, bumbling man
walking along the street. "Ah... comedy relief time," said Lois
with a grin. And so it proved. The bumbler bought a newspaper
>from a blind street vendor and tried to steal a piece of fruit,
only to be foiled by the man's very large, very alert dog.


"Is that supposed to be his *guide dog?*" asked Clark, who
couldn't quite imagine it, because the dog looked more like a
Doberman than anything else.


"Only if it's meant to lead him through the valley of the
shadow of death," Lois replied. At Clark's look of
incomprehension, she went on, "You know... like that old gag:
'Yea, though I walk through the Valley of the Shadow of Death, I
will fear no evil... For I have the biggest, *meanest* dog in the
whole damn valley!'"


Clark laughed and they went back to watching. The comedy
relief, whose name was Otis, had been recognised by two
plain-clothes policemen and was being followed; there seemed to
be some link between him and Lex Luthor, and the cops were hoping
that Otis would lead them to a hide-out.


He eventually led them to "Metropolis Station", alias New York
Grand Central. The two police split up, one following Otis and
one calling for back-up. "Harry", who kept on Otis' trail, saw
him climb on, and off, a train and followed him down into the
tunnels on the lower level of the station. Otis walked along the
track and stood in a workman's wall niche just as a train went
past. When the train was gone, so was Otis, the rear wall of the
niche having moved back, courtesy of a giant hydraulic ram, to
let him into a tunnel while he was presumably hidden by the
train. Harry guessed what had happened, though, and went to
examine the niche. Then, another train came past and he had to
take shelter there, whereupon a dark figure who had been
following Otis' progress on a series of monitor screens
manipulated some controls and the niche wall moved forward rather
than back, pushing the unfortunate Harry under the train.


Clark snorted. "Huh! Catch Luthor doing his own dirty work.
He'd have hired some goon to do that, while he sat back in the
comfort of his penthouse. Then he'd complain about being
disturbed when the goon told him that the cop was dead!"


"I think he's still in 'the comfort of his penthouse' -- take a
look at that set!"


Sure enough, Otis had entered what looked to be a further
extension of the railroad station, all carved and polished stone,
but one which had been converted into a combination hide-out and
luxury apartment, complete with a bank of TV screens and
electronic controls in a far, dark corner and large areas fitted
out with expensive furniture as different "rooms", including a
library.


"I don't believe that!" remarked an amused Lois. "How is he
supposed to have got all that stuff down there?"


"No idea," Clark replied, equally entertained by the villain's
lair. "But how do *any* criminal masterminds set up their
headquarters? I reckon that there must be someone out there who
makes a living setting these things up..."


"Yeah, they're called set designers, and they're all totally
out of touch with reality!"


"Lois... No, I mean a secret, word-of-mouth-only contractor who
charges huge fees to build hidden headquarters for bad guys like
SPECTRE, THRUSH, KAOS... and Luthor. 'Master Villain
Constructions, Inc.' No Job Too Big Or Too Awkward. Design Your
Own Lair Or Use One Of Our Tried-And-Tested Layouts. Secret
Equipment Installed At No Extra Charge. Let Us Build You The
Perfect Hide-Out While You Get On With Plotting. Self-Destruct
Capability Standard. Discretion Guaranteed."


Lois rolled her eyes. 'That's my Clark,' she thought. 'He'll
eat anything, and he'll watch or read anything. Just as well he's
got good taste in women...'


The figure at the control panel emerged from the darkened area,
demanding the newspaper from Otis. It was revealed to be a
slightly plump, middle-aged man with dark brown hair, wearing a
rather loud plaid suit, a yellow shirt and reading glasses. This,
it seemed, was "Lex Luthor".


"That's *Lex?*" yelped Lois, surprised and barely holding in a
laugh. "Ohhh... if he only knew. He'd be furious! And what would
Nigel have said about this Otis clown?"


"Something short, insincere, and probably Anglo-Saxon."


Lois laughed, but Clark didn't. She turned to look at him, and
saw that he was lost in a reverie, a rather intent frown on his
face. He looked up at the ceiling and his expression changed,
becoming... mischievous?


"Clark?" asked Lois in a quiet voice. "What are you thinking
about?"


He started. "Hmmm? Oh, sorry, Lois. I was just thinking about
Luthor -- the real one. You know, I think I'd have preferred that
one to the real thing. At least that guy is ethical enough to
acknowledge that he's a criminal, instead of using his wealth and
power to masquerade as an honest businessman and philanthropist,
fooling everyone into thinking that he was a benefactor of the
city."


'Fooling everyone but *you*, you mean,' thought Lois. "Okay, so
what was the wicked smile for?"


"Oh, that?" And the smile was back. "I was just imagining
sending him a copy of parts of that tape... Like you said, he would
have just *loved* to see himself portrayed like that. Now, what
could I put on the card?"


Lois decided that she'd heard enough about Lex Luthor, now
permanent holder of the Number One position on her All-Time List
of the World's Worst Scumbags, even though he was dead, but then
she had an idea that she couldn't resist, and didn't think that
she should: "I know *one* thing you could put on it..." she said
sweetly.


"Oh?"


"Yeah. Write the rude message of your choice, sign it, and then
add as a PS: 'Lois says to tell you that she's never been so
happy...' *That'd* hurt him!"


"Ohhh, that's cruel... You can be vicious when you want, can't
you?"


"I can where *he's* concerned, the.. the..." Lois' voice
trailed off into a snort as she tried and failed to find a strong
enough word to express her opinion of Lex Luthor.


Clark held her for a moment in silence, inwardly rejoicing that
she no longer cared, if she ever had, for his one-time rival. He
knew that Luthor had also desired Lois in his own, twisted way,
and Clark could find it in himself to be sorry for the man --
just not very much, and he was glad that neither he nor Lois
would ever have to deal with the skunk again, not even with a
fence post. Then he turned his attention to the important part of
Lois' message. "'Never been so happy', huh? Is that a fact,
'Miss' Lane?"


"You better believe it, *Mister* Kent. Now, come here."


He did, and the movie was forgotten for quite some time.


They re-wound the tape to watch "Luthor" harangue his
sidekicks, namely Otis and a wise-cracking, glamorous, very buxom
blonde woman, referred to only as "Miss Tessmocher". This version
of Luthor, the scene established, was incredibly vain (Clark
muttered something about "they got *that* right, at least..."),
particularly with respect to his intelligence, and had a fixation
about acquiring land, particularly valuable land. There were also
hints about some sort of master plan involving a forthcoming
nuclear missile test that was going to enable him to do just
that.


     Otis also had to feed some kind of "pet": he lowered a side
of beef into a pit, there were a few loud, vicious roars, and he
pulled the now-empty meathook back up.


"What was *that* supposed to be?" Lois wondered.


"Beats me," said Clark. "It sounds like some kind of big cat,
but the way it's supposed to have eaten that meat is more like a
school of piranha!"


"Oh, well, I have a feeling we'll find out before too long."


"I think you're right..."


Back at the Daily Planet, "Clark" had just finished his first
day and was starting to leave. "Lois", who had somehow managed to
change her clothes since lunchtime, and who also seemed to be
intrigued by her new colleague, asked him how he had enjoyed it.
This was his cue to demonstrate his total lack of sophistication
by using what she considered rustic slang, and to compound the
error by asking her out to dinner. Naturally, she declined. She
was polite enough about it, having a perfect excuse: Air Force
One was coming in to Metropolis, and she, ever the workaholic,
was going out to the airport by helicopter to interview the
President.


She ducked into the Ladies' room to change clothes yet again;
Clark, paying rather more attention to her than to where he was
going, nearly followed her in before she stopped him. Having
agreed to run an errand for her, he said good night and went to the
elevators, where he was, as was beginning to be usual, ignored or
abused by various people and left standing there, waiting.


The real Clark groaned. "I can see that this is going to get
old, real quick. I know I'm supposed to be mild-mannered, but
where does it say that that equates to being totally disregarded
by everyone you meet?"


Lois snuggled against him and squeezed his hand. He felt better
immediately.


Outside, night had fallen and "Lois", now dressed in a natty
yellow outfit, complete with hat, waited while the Planet
helicopter made its approach to the helipad on the building's
roof and landed.


"Hey," said the real Lois, "where'd the globe go? There wasn't
room for a helipad with that globe on top of the building!"


"Dunno. Maybe it got taken down since 1938 -- if this is even
supposed to be the same building."


Lois subsided at that and watched "herself" get into the
'copter. It attempted to take off, but a cable somehow got
entangled with the landing skids, so that it couldn't lift more
than a few inches. Unable to go up, it lurched sideways, striking
the edge of the building. That started it spinning and the tail
boom wiped out the rooftop waiting-and-operations room that the
film Lois had just come from. The helicopter bounced a couple of
times and eventually came to rest hanging precariously over the
edge of the roof. The passenger side door hadn't been shut
properly and it now came open, giving "Lois" a perfect view
straight down the side of the building to the street below. Her
hat went flying. She screamed.


She leaned over to close the door but, restrained by her seat
belt, she couldn't quite reach it. The pilot looked to be
unconscious, so...


The real Lois moaned and buried her face in Clark's chest. Her
muffled voice, half angry, half anguished, *totally* embarrassed,
came softly from somewhere near his ribs: "Clark... tell me that
woman isn't doing what I think she is. Please tell me that she's
not taking off her seat belt to climb around inside a helicopter
with an open door that's hanging halfway off the edge of a
skyscraper... *please?*"


The final word sounded almost desperate, but that was exactly
what the woman on the screen *was* doing, so Clark didn't say
anything. Instead, returning the favour and the moral support
that his love had given him earlier, he put both arms around her
and hugged her gently. Lois hugged him back, not wanting to watch
what "she" was doing on the TV. The muffled voice was heard
again: "Didn't that... that *idiot* ever watch The Italian Job?"


Police and ambulances had arrived by now, and the cops were
having a particularly hard time keeping the crowds back. Clark
had the awful feeling that the 'copter would hit most of the
crowd if it went over the edge, but he had seen too many equally
stupid crowds not to be certain that this one was doing exactly
what might be expected of it.


The helicopter shifted again, just as "Lois" tried to climb
out. She lost her balance and slipped until she was hanging out
of the fuselage over the sheer drop to the street. She screamed
again.


By now, it was obvious to Clark that anything that the actress
did could only make matters worse, and he was right. A desperate
attempt to climb back into the helicopter simply caused it to
move again; Lois fell again and ended up hanging at the end of
the 'copter's radio microphone cord, screaming. 'Enough,
already,' he thought. 'She's in trouble; we can all *see* that,
so could we please get on with the plot?'


The screen Clark finally came out of the building, saw Lois'
hat on the ground, noticed all the commotion and looked up. He
was suitably horrified and began to run down the street, to the
accompaniment of a variation on part of the theme music.


The real Lois, hearing the music, pulled her face out of
Clark's shirt and watched the actor start to run. "Where's he
going?"


"I think he's looking for somewhere to change. I know the
feeling; there's never a deserted alley around when you need
one..."


Clark was proven correct as his screen counterpart appeared to
head for a phone booth, only to find that all the payphones on
the streets were mounted in open stalls. The actor's double-take
on discovering this made Lois and Clark crack up completely, so
much so that they had  to stop the tape.


"Oh, that was priceless," Lois managed to get out between fits
of laughter. "The *look* on his face... Have you *ever* changed
identities in a phone booth?"


"No," chuckled Clark. "I don't know how that story got started.
Even if I could find one these days, there's not that much room
in there. And it's not as though they're very private -- their
sides are made of *glass*, after all. Besides, you've seen me
make the change outdoors -- you've even done it yourself, my
darling Ultra Woman! Why would I need a *phone booth?*"


Lois insisted on rewinding the tape and watching that part
again, dissolving in giggles. After his failure to find a handy
phone booth, the screen Clark ran across the road, wrenching open
his shirt to reveal the S before ducking into a revolving door to
emerge as Superman.


"Now, that's more like it!" enthused Lois. "Hey, he's not bad.
He's taller than you, and a bit broader across the shoulders...
Nice."


"Oh, yeah?" muttered Clark in a slightly indignant, albeit
playful tone. "But can he do this?" So saying, he reached down,
turned Lois' face to his and kissed her, hard. After a moment, he
gently rose off the couch, taking her with him, until they were
hanging in mid-air, their bodies gently resting against one
another. He didn't even spill the nearly-empty popcorn bowl.


"Oh, I hope so..." murmured Lois as they slowly eased out of
the kiss. "For her sake, I mean... even if she doesn't deserve
it. Why should *I* have all the luck?"


Meanwhile, the film Lois had finally lost her grip on the
microphone cord and was falling, screaming again. Fortunately,
Superman was streaking upwards and caught her.


"Oh, I know what *that* feels like!" said Lois.


"Me, too, but from the look of her, I'm not sure *she* does...
More than a touch of shock there, I think."


"Maybe. Can you blame her? Hey, that reminds me -- I've always
wanted to ask you this: just how *do* you catch things -- and
people -- like that, without hurting them?"


"I'm not really sure. I don't think about it, I just *do* it. I
guess that, maybe, when I touch them, I sort of absorb their
downwards motion and cancel it out with my ability to fly. Maybe
we should ask Dr Klein about it someday."


"Only if you're ready for a couple of weeks of experiments. You
know what he's like..."


"Yeah, but it's worth it. He's been a lot of help to both of
us."


A gentle descent back to the couch and another rewind. After
catching Lois, Superman told her not to worry, that he had her.
The actress, with a totally-stunned look on her face that Clark
recognised from real life (but carefully let no sign of the
recognition show outwardly), stared at her rescuer, looked
downwards, wished she hadn't, and clung to him as they began to
rise, then uttered the immortal line: "You've got me-- *who's got
you?!*"


This was too much for Clark, whose head fell back onto the
couch as he laughed and laughed. Lois, giggling herself, would
have asked him what, exactly, was so funny, but he shooshed her
and they watched as the helicopter finally fell off the building,
only to be caught, one-handed, by Superman, after yet another
scream from the actress. Clark winced, having grave doubts as to
whether the helicopter could safely be carried like that.


Lois was getting a bit tired of the continual shrieking of her
screen counterpart. She began to grumble, "I know how *she* got
that role: they lined everybody up at the audition and hired the
one who could scream longest and loudest. Talent, huh! -- who
needs it when you've got lung capacity?"


Clark was about to offer some sympathy, and *not* mention what
"a good set of lungs" had been a euphemism for when he was a
teenage boy, when his attention was caught by another scene
between Superman and Lois. He settled for gently tightening his
grip on the real Lois and kissing the top of her head.


     Back on the screen, Superman had set the helicopter down on the
Planet helipad and called for someone to help the pilot. He then
came out with a series of incredibly hackneyed statements about
the safety of air travel, presumably to reassure Lois, who was
still in a state of shock, shaking her head, nodding and
"uh-huh"-ing in desperate fashion to everything that he said.
Only when he began to leave did she finally manage to get out a
coherent sentence, asking him who he was. His reply -- "A friend"
-- did not impress Clark at all. Okay, he'd used the exact same
words himself, way back on the Messenger, but there was something
about the way in which the actor delivered the line that just set
the cap on his terrible dialogue.


Superman then flew off into the night, with a gentle wave. Lois
stood watching, waved back half-heartedly, and fainted. Clark
cringed inwardly -- he wasn't sure which was worse: the sheer
banality of Superman's lines, or that he'd left Lois Lane to
collapse onto a concrete-and-tarmac helipad.


Lois, however, was ignoring the plight of her screen "double",
and seemed to be in pain, if the groans that she was making were
any indication. "Ohhhhh, Clark! Who wrote his dialogue? I haven't
heard lines that bad since I saw some '60s sitcom re-runs when I
was eight! And they were *meant* to be corny!"


The next few minutes showed Superman doing typical super-hero
stuff -- capturing a cat burglar and a boat-load of robbers,
saving Air Force One after it was hit by lightning, even rescuing
a cat from a tree -- to the amazement of assorted crooks,
policemen, aircrew and one little girl. Much to Lois' chagrin,
though, no-one else suffered from a paralysed stupor to quite the
same extent that it had overcome "her".


There was another short scene with Lex Luthor and his sidekicks
in the underground lair; this time, they were using a flooded
stairwell as a swimming pool, complete with sunlamps and a
back-projected screen showing a beach. It was more of the same:
Luthor paraded his ego and hinted at his master plan, Otis once
again proved himself to be an idiot, and Miss Tessmocher, wearing
a vibrant red wig, showed off her impressive figure and kibitzed.
The one difference was that Lex was wearing a bathing cap and
there was at least one other wig on a stand near the pool,
hinting that the character was actually bald.


Lois, naturally, picked up on this. "Hey, how did they know
that Lex would lose all his hair? That didn't even happen until
nearly two years after Superman came on the scene."


"I don't *know*, Lois. How did they know that he was a
criminal? How did they know about Smallville? How did they even
know that you or I *existed* in 1978, much less that I was from
Krypton? *I* didn't even know that then."


Lois heard the frustration in his voice and decided to keep any
further questions like that to herself. This was weird enough
without her making it harder for Clark. She snuggled back against
his shoulder and brought his hand to her lips to kiss gently. He
relaxed slightly and she was pretty sure that he was smiling,
though she deliberately didn't look. 'That's better,' she
thought.


The Metropolis and national media had a field day with
Superman's first heroic deeds, just as they had had in real life,
except that the film versions knew even less about him than their
counterparts had found out when he first appeared for real, those
few years ago. Perry White was shown delivering a tirade to the
assembled Daily Planet newsroom staff, wanting to know who, what,
when, where, why and how about the mysterious caped figure,
preferably yesterday.


Lois and Clark looked at each other and did their best to keep
a straight face: the actor, even though he was thirty pounds
lighter and several inches shorter, had no trace of Perry's
accent and didn't make so much as a single mention of Elvis, was
doing a remarkable imitation of their own editor on the warpath:
exhorting, cajoling, pushing and driving his staff up the wall in
his efforts to get the news first and stick it on the front page.


The actress playing Lois, looking less outgoing than usual with
her hair tied back, found that she had somehow acquired a small,
handwritten note. She immediately lost interest in Perry's pep
talk when she saw what it said: "Tonight at eight. Your place --
hopefully. A Friend." Nor did she notice Clark looking at her
over the heads of his colleagues.


By now, Perry had worked himself into a frustrated frenzy in
his efforts to motivate his reporters. He began snapping
questions about the "flying whatchamacallit" at anyone that he
saw; the poor victims had no time to respond, even if they'd
known what to say. When he got to Lois, the woman who'd actually
met the hero, his question to her was, "Does he have a
girlfriend?" He didn't wait for a reply, by which he showed
himself to be less astute than the real Perry, who never asked a
question that he didn't expect to get an answer to, even if it
was "No Comment". Lois' expression -- a small, hopeful smile, and
an "innocent" casting of her eyes around the room, conveying the
unspoken comment "could be..." -- would have been a dead
giveaway, had he been watching. The real Lois, who *was*
watching, grinned in sympathy -- she knew just how the
woman must feel -- and Clark cracked up completely.


Lois looked at him in surprise and with a certain amount of
pique. "Just *what* is so funny?" she asked in a
this-better-be-good tone.


It took Clark a few moments to recover, at least enough to
speak between further guffaws. "Oh, Lois..." he chuckled, "that
look was *so* you..." and he was off again.


Lois looked around for a cushion to hit him with. He was
sitting on them all.


Her screen self didn't seem to be having any more luck; it was
now evening, just after eight, and she was standing outside "her
place", waiting, and seemingly none too happy about it. She
looked at her watch and grumbled about this "friend" who hadn't
turned up. Lois might have been more sympathetic if she hadn't
been astonished at the woman's "home" -- a roof-top apartment,
and not a small one, complete with a large garden/courtyard area.


"How does she rate *that* sort of place? On *my* salary?" she
cried. Clark thought about her previous comments on the subject
of set designers and, perhaps wisely, didn't say anything.


"Lois" was dressed to match her apartment, in an elegant white
sheath dress, over which was a diaphanous pale blue over-dress
with long, flowing sleeves. She had obviously taken considerable
trouble over her hair and make-up, but the whole ensemble looked
wrong to Clark. Pale blue wasn't Lois' colour, and it didn't look
all that great on the actress, either. More to the point, in
similar situations between Lois and himself in the early days of
their relationship, her clothes had been a lot more... emphatic,
tending towards "little black dresses" with low necklines and
high hemlines. That had been fun, or would have been if he hadn't
had to spend so much time fending her off as Superman. He looked
forward to seeing her in that sort of outfit again in the future,
this time as himself, and *not* feeling the need to fend her
off...


The actress poured herself a glass of wine, thereby missing
seeing Superman glide down silently behind her to land on the
wall surrounding the courtyard. She nearly jumped a foot into the
air when he spoke to her.


The next couple of minutes were rather embarrassing for Lois,
as her film counterpart stumbled and stammered her way through
the beginnings of a conversation, deprecating compliments about
her appearance and coming close to panic when Superman asked if
she was expecting anybody, and should he leave? Needing something
to steady her nerves, the actress went to light a cigarette and
he gently warned her about smoking, checking her lungs for signs
of cancer while her back was turned. The change of subject seemed
to start her brain working; Clark, familiar with the
wow-it's-Superman syndrome, although not from Lois -- at least,
not to *that* extent for some time now -- figured that the reflex
response to a common complaint probably did help her steady
herself down. She did stub the cigarette out, though.


Eventually, "Lois" managed to calm down enough to adopt
something like a proper professional manner, and the "interview"
began. There *was* an interview in there somewhere, but a
dispassionate observer (which didn't include either person
watching the tape) would have said that it was one part interview
to about four parts mating dance -- the early,
getting-to-know-you bit. The tone for much of the scene was set
by her first question: "Let's start with some vital statistics --
are you married?"


And so it went on. "Lois" would make one or two genuine
reporter-type inquiries, including some that neither the real
Lois nor Clark could figure out how she'd known to ask (bad
script-writing and continuity, they concluded), and then she'd
toss in something that might pass muster as a legitimate question
or comment but was much more concerned with the mating dance.


Superman wasn't any better; he may have been there to tell the
world something about himself, but he seemed to be spending a lot
of time telling Lois certain things that weren't really for
public consumption, such as the fact that he didn't have a
girlfriend at the moment, but that she'd be the first to know if
he did.


Even Lois' genuine questions had suggestive overtones, such as
when she asked if all his bodily functions were normal. He didn't
quite catch her drift, or pretended not to. Lois put her head in
her hands and leaned over the table towards him; he responded by
drawing nearer until, their heads close together and their gazes
locked, she quietly asked, "To put it delicately... do you...
eat?"


Clark, a Monty Python fan from way back, struggled to remain
impassive at that one -- he was certain that *eating* was not
what was on the lady's mind, and it was all too similar to lots
of Python gags about "noses" and "washing". He kept expecting
John Cleese to burst in, pretending to be the King of France with a
broad Scots accent -- either that or the Spanish Inquisition.
Then he remembered his Lois asking him more or less the same
question and the careful way she made notes when he answered --
"Does not need to eat, but likes to" -- and their long-running
tease about his eclectic taste in food, and couldn't hold his
laughter back any more.


Meanwhile, the real Lois had her own comments to make on that
subject. "Does he *eat?*" she addressed the TV in a sarcastic
tone. "You don't know the half of it, lady! Any*thing*, any
*time*, any*where!* And spicy?! Why don't you offer him a nice
bomb vindaloo?" As she finished speaking, her eyes slid sideways
to look at Clark's face. He caught her attempt at a sly glance
and his laughter got harder. It was infectious; in spite of
herself, she began to laugh as well, and that was it for the
movie for a minute or two.


Yet another rewind got them back to "Lois' place", where their
other selves had moved outside. Lois, having somehow found out
about Superman's x-ray vision, invited a demonstration by asking
him what colour her underwear was. He didn't answer, and she got
flustered, thinking that she'd embarrassed him, but it was only
that they were standing on opposite sides of a lead planter,
which blocked his x-ray vision. The film Lois, relieved and still
over-reacting to everything, said that *that* was interesting and
wrote it down; the real Lois thought she saw a plot development.
"I think he's going to regret telling her that before long..."
she hazarded.


"I think you're right, but it's too late now," Clark responded.
"The cat's out of the bag, and she'd probably be as hard to
persuade not to write about it as you were."


Lois was about to answer that one, but she noticed that the
actress had moved away from the planter, out into a direct line
of sight for x-ray vision. She put the subject of her devotion to
reporting the news to one side for a while -- a *little* while --
because she wanted to see what happened now. 'This should be
fun,' she thought.


     She wasn't disappointed. "Lois" was in the middle of saying
something when Superman answered her previous question: "Pink."
Now it was *her* turn to be embarrassed, and she moved back
behind the planter. She recovered, though, because after he had
told her that he was from another world -- another galaxy, in
fact. The real Lois looked at Clark at that, but he shrugged his
shoulders. Meantime, Superman was now helping "Lois" with the
spelling of "Krypton" (Lois glared at the ceiling in disgust;
hadn't the woman done high school chemistry?) when she slipped
another question in, very quietly and with her head bowed
demurely over her notebook: "Do you like pink?"


He did.


"So, farm boy, tell me..." Lois said with a teasing note in her
voice, "Do *you* like pink?"


"Depends who's wearing it..." Clark replied lazily, having
expected this one. "I don't think it's really your colour --
you'd look better in a deeper shade of red -- but you can wear
*anything* and look great in it, and you know it."


Lois smiled at that, but then turned thoughtful. "Clark..." she
said sweetly -- *so* sweetly that Clark was immediately
hyper-alert for what was to come next. "Tell me something... in
the days when we were getting to know each other... I wasn't like
her, was I? I wasn't all tongue-tied and moony-eyed and flirty...
was I?"


The last two words were said in a worried tone, which didn't
make Clark's life any easier. 'How do I answer that without
making her mad?' Lois hadn't *quite* been like that when Superman
was around -- she was far too assertive and self-confident for
that. Actually, she'd been *worse*, because she'd combined her
romantic obsession with the new hero with her reporter's zeal and
a manic determination to find out *everything* about him (but not
about Clark), something that the movie Lois seemed too
preoccupied, or possibly just too zonked out, to do at the
moment. She'd never actually asked him what colour underwear she
was wearing, probably because it took a while for the story of
his super-vision to get around, by which time they were on
sufficiently close terms that she would have been monumentally
embarrassed to ask such a thing, both on her behalf and his.


He stopped the tape and said carefully, "Well, to tell you the
truth... you were a bit tongue-tied -- so was I, for that matter
but only at the start. It didn't take you long to get over
that, and then you were anything but!" He looked up at the
ceiling and his voice became reflective. "Me, I stayed that way a
lot longer -- as Superman, anyway; you were so different with me
when I was Clark that *I* acted differently, too. When I was in
the suit, I was never quite sure how to deal with you. It was so
important to me, and I'd never had to deal with someone who meant
so much to me -- and to totally complicate the whole mess, I
wasn't being *me*, if you understand what I mean. I was playing
this part, but it wasn't just an act. And, of course, I've
*always* been tongue-tied around you, in either identity, when it
comes to expressing my feelings...


"Moony-eyed... well, yes," he chuckled. "You didn't stop
staring at me for a long time -- and you still do, sometimes. Not
that I mind, especially now, but it *was* disconcerting at first.
I shouldn't talk, anyway; I find myself gazing at you dozens of
times every day. I just love to look at you... and I think I
always will.


"Flirty -- no. You were never flirty. Not like she is, anyway.
Actually, I reckon that she's got a bad case of
hormone-aggravated shell-shock; she's not thinking straight at
*all*. I don't think that she's recovered from falling off that
building yet, and he's dazzling her at exactly the wrong moment
for her mental stability. His timing's as bad as mine is,
sometimes... probably for the same reason!


"No... you didn't flirt with me. You were stunned by my sudden
appearance, I guess, and you were attracted to me, just like I
was to you, but you didn't flirt. You... tried to attract my
interest -- fairly forcefully," he commented, his voice suddenly
dryly amused, "and I *was* attracted. I guess that we could have
had a relationship then -- it would have been *so easy* to give
in and encourage you to love me as Superman. Except, of course,
that Superman isn't a real person, but there was no way that you
could have known that."


Lois said nothing. Clark hadn't given her the flat-out denial
that she had wanted, but his words rang so true and showed such
understanding that she wondered whether his answer might not have
been better -- at least as far as the prospects for a long-term
relationship went. She'd have to think about that at some length
but not right now. Just now, the thing to do was to reach out
to him and kiss him to show her appreciation and gratitude that
he loved her, and to assure him yet again that she loved him --
*all* of him.


Which she did. He responded with just a little more tenderness
than usual, which suggested to her that he may have been having
similar thoughts. So much the better.


Meanwhile, there was the film, and it was time to refill the
popcorn bowl. A quick trip to the kitchen later, Lois snuggled
back down with Clark to see "herself", obviously running out of
questions -- reporter-type ones, at least -- ask Superman how
fast he could fly. This was his chance; he'd had enough of the
by-play, suggestive or otherwise, and decided to move the two of
them out of it, literally, by suggesting that she take a flight
with him, under the pretext of doing some impromptu time trials.
Of course, he then proceeded to make sure that she left behind
any sort of recording materials, making the pretext even
flimsier.


At first, "Lois" couldn't seem to take the idea seriously, but
a little patient cajoling from Superman -- not to mention taking
her by the hand, which seemed to partially short out her brain --
got her to go along with him. There was a short bit of dialogue
which could only be described as Clark-bashing -- the real Clark
winced, remembering the pain that he'd gone through, having to
compete with himself for Lois -- and then the couple lifted off
into the night sky, to the accompaniment of swelling background
music -- and the inevitable startled cry from the actress.


"Oh, my God," cried Lois, amused and half-disbelieving, "It's
the 'Flying Nun' theme!"


"What...?"


"Listen to it, Clark!" And she began to croon, ever so softly,
"Who needs wings to fly... Certainly not I..."


The funny thing was, Clark thought, that the words fit rather
well with the music coming from the TV. That might just have been
Lois, though -- she had an excellent singing voice, and Clark was
of the firm opinion that she could make *anything* sound good if
she sang it.


While Lois was singing, she was also watching "herself" and her
reaction to flying. At first, her counterpart seemed to be
overcome by vertigo -- an understandable response for someone
who'd been rescued from falling off a skyscraper only the day
before -- but, as time passed and she didn't fall, she gradually
began to emerge from hiding against Superman's arm and enjoy the
ride. She didn't relax her grip on him, but she began to feel
more confident about looking around. It helped that they had
climbed a bit, the ground not seeming to be quite so close any
more. They swept past some of the taller city buildings and out
over the harbour, the blackness of the water helping Lois to
relax even more as they circled the brilliantly-lit Statue of
Liberty -- although what *that* was doing in Metropolis Harbour
was anyone's guess.


Sight-seeing was over for the moment; Superman took the two of
them up, away from the city into a suddenly cloudy sky,
eventually emerging atop a moon-lit cloudscape that somehow
sparked a recollection in the real Lois. It took her a moment to
realise why it looked familiar, but then she remembered -- it was
so very like a place that Clark had taken her to, not long after
he'd proposed to her. A place half-way between the earth and the
stars; a place where he'd spent many a lonely night, just
drifting, wondering how, or *if* he could ever fit in down below
in a world of "ordinary" people; a place that he'd never taken
anyone else to, because there had never been anyone *to* take,
or, if there was, he hadn't been sure enough of himself or the
other person to dare to let them see this side of himself and the
loneliness that came with being so different; above all, to her,
it was the place where he'd said that he'd wait for her to decide
what their future would be, for as long as she needed.


As with so many things in their lives, the world had intruded
on them and made this promise harder to keep than it might have
been for Joe and Judy Regular. He'd-- they'd *both* gone a little
crazy in the days following, but, thank God -- and she said it
reverently, even though she had no real idea of what sort of
deity might be watching over them -- that was behind them.


She looked around at him to see that he might have been
thinking the same thing, because his eyes were fixed on her with
a regard that could only be described as wistful. "Remembering
something?" she asked gently, with just a hint of playfulness in
her voice.


"Lots of things..." he replied. "So many things..." His voice
had become rueful and a little sad, so Lois reached over and
gently took the remote control from him. She stopped the tape,
put the remote control down and wrapped her arms around him,
laying her head on his shoulder. He turned and kissed her head,
and they sat there for a while, not moving, not speaking, hardly
even thinking -- just being, together.


Eventually, Lois had to move to ease an incipient cramp in one
leg. Clark got up and massaged the complaining muscles until they
relaxed, then picked Lois up bodily and sat down with her in his
lap. She was surprised by this, but didn't object because it
suited their present mood for them to be that little bit closer
to one another. She wriggled a little to get comfortable and
relaxed in Clark's arms, her legs stretched out along the couch.


Once the tape was started again, they watched Superman getting
"Lois" used to flying, encouraging her to release the
still-near-panicky grip she had on his arm. In particular, he
gestured to her to spread her own arms and move away from him a
little; he would still be supporting her, holding her by one arm,
but she would be able to enjoy the full sensation of flight. She
looked uncertain, but he continued to encourage her until she
finally let go with one hand and brought her arm back across her
body.


Lois was a bit unsteady at first, once she finally managed to
spread her wings, so to speak. She bobbed and weaved in the air
before getting the hang of using her outstretched arm and hand to
steady herself.


"That's it," murmured Clark as he watched her eventually manage
to settle into a steady, comfortable flying position. "Nice and
easy. Gently does it..."


"Hmm?" said his Lois, looking up at him curiously.


"I was just remembering something that somebody said to me...
oh, must be more than ten years ago, not long after I first found
out that I could fly. I wasn't too good at it at first -- I could
get off the ground okay, but controlling myself in the air was
another matter." His voice became dry. "And I'm not even going to
talk about my *landings*...


"Anyway, I decided to see if I could pick up a few tips from
the guys at the local airfield. I told one instructor that I was
thinking about taking flying lessons, and as we talked about what
was involved in learning to fly, I eventually managed to lead the
conversation round to technique. It wasn't hard; pilots are only
too happy to chat about flying, and this guy was one of the real
old school, who just loved to pass on hints that he'd learned the
hard way."


"Oh, I can just imagine," said Lois. "A real windbag, right?
One of those guys who can bore your socks off, unless you happen
to be interested in what he's talking about."


"Maybe, but he told me one thing that's always stuck in my
mind, and it certainly was a big help in learning to fly. He said
that flying doesn't take any great effort. It doesn't matter
whether it's aerobatics, tight manoeuvres or just simply flying
straight and level; the important thing is to fly as smoothly as
possible, and everything else just follows. He was right, and I
think *she's* just found that out for herself."


Lois, her curiosity satisfied, made a mental note to find out
more about Clark's first few landings from Martha and turned her
attention back to the TV, where she suddenly figured out
something  that had been bothering her about her counterpart. She
sat up, a sudden triumphant look on her face. "A-*ha!* So
*that's* why she's wearing that silly pale blue thing..."


"What do you mean, Lois? Pale blue doesn't particularly suit
either of you, but..."


"*Look* at her, Clark! She's dressed to kill, in a long, slinky
dress -- black or your favourite burgundy would be better, but
white'll do in a pinch -- and she puts *that* thing over the top.
Why? It can't possibly be for warmth -- the material's far too
thin. If she's trying to seduce him, it'll just get in the
way..."


"Oh, yes?" he said dryly, one eyebrow raised. "Are you speaking
>from personal experience of seducing Kryptonians here?"


"Who was it who told me that he liked spaghetti straps because
they didn't get in the way so much when he was kissing my
shoulders?" she shot back, grinning, enjoying the new game.


"Good point," replied Clark, put in his place but quite happy
about it. "Actually," he went on in a lower voice, "that gives me
an idea..." and he began to kiss the back of her neck.


"Clark..." she breathed softly, shivering at his touch despite
herself. She moved away from him on the couch, turning so that
she could look directly at him. "That's wonderful, but I thought
you wanted to watch this..."


"I do..." he murmured, "But you're very distracting..."


"I know what you mean," she sighed. "Let's keep watching, and
we can distract each other later, okay..?" He seemed to
acquiesce, but she saw in his eyes that he would hold her to that
promise, and the thought was almost enough to make her change her
mind.


"What I was *trying* to say, before I was so... delightfully
interrupted," she went on, "was that there's no real reason for
that pale blue over-thing -- unless someone is going to take you
flying, Superman-style! It's a visual thing; now that they're in
the air, it's her equivalent of Superman's cape."


They turned their attention back to the television, and Clark
saw that Lois had a point. The flowing blue over-dress did
visually balance Superman's cape as the couple soared together in
the moon-lit sky above the clouds, and its pale colour made it
stand out against the dark, star-spangled background more clearly
than even the bright red of the cape.


"Lois" was gaining more and more confidence, and had really
begun to enjoy flying. Her face had lost the worried look and now
showed a fascinated, amazed delight. She looked across at
Superman, smiling in wonder, and he smiled back. With this
encouragement, her grip on his arm gradually slid downwards until
they were holding hands, then just fingers, and finally just the
tips...


And then she let go of his hand. In an instant, the magic was
gone, and she fell. No longer a creature of the air, she had been
reduced to an ordinary human again, plummeting through a gap in
the clouds towards the lights of the city, far below. Naturally,
she screamed.


Superman looked rather resigned, as though he'd been expecting
this, before diving down after her. Clark frowned; he, if anyone,
knew about Lois' tendency towards over-confidence, but what was
that clown *doing*, allowing her to let go? He'd never have let
his Lois get beyond the holding-hands stage, more likely the
forearm grip-- but then he shook his head, realising that this
had to be the idea of some script-writer, and the intentions of
his counterpart didn't really enter into it.


Lois had been having similar thoughts, and her suspicions were
confirmed when she saw Superman swoop down and catch "her",
holding her close with her arms around his neck, the two of them
looking deeply into each other's eyes. She looked at Clark and
snorted deliberately. He looked back, one eyebrow cocked
questioningly.


"Okay, Kent, tell me -- it looks to me like he let her fall so
that he could catch her that way. What do you think?" she teased.
Clark didn't particularly want to argue the point, even in fun,
but he was saved from having to point out that the real blame for
this resided with the writers by another of their master-works --
the poetry started.


The idea behind the poem, a reasonable one -- quite good, in
fact -- was to express Lois' reactions to being with Superman:
amazement at his god-like abilities; astonishment that he was
prepared to take her, a mere mortal, into his world, however
temporarily; a kind of hopeful wondering if he might want her
there on a more permanent basis; and an awed offering to be
there, to be *anything* for him if her hopes could, by some
miracle, be realised. It made sense in the context of the story,
being a logical development of the mating dance earlier, and the
actress who played Lois did what she could with the words, but
the rhyme and metre were so appallingly clumsy that the two
reporters looked at each other in sheer disbelief at how bad it
was.


They rewound the tape to see -- and hear -- that bit again. It
didn't improve the second time around. Finally, after another
long exchange of incredulous looks, Clark stood up, lifting Lois
over his head as he did so. She looked startled at first until he
playfully declaimed to the world at large, "Let it be known that
I, Clark Kent, do hereby state, affirm and declare that this
woman, Lois Lane, can write better poetry than *that* any day of
the week, with both hands tied behind her back, so help me God!
And so can *I!*"


Lois giggled at that and leaned down to kiss him. He lowered
her until he could hug her properly and they spent a moment or
six helping each other "recover" from the shock induced by the
poem, before resuming their positions on the couch.


The poem served as a voice-over to more flying scenes,
culminating in Superman gathering Lois into what both the real
Lois and Clark recognised, grinning as they did so, as the
classic "scooping" position that they had spent a lot of time
flying in themselves, before returning her to her apartment. He
set her down gently but her arms were still around his neck, and
she looked as though she would be happy to leave them there all
night, but then came to and let go.


That "moony-eyed" look was back, but it was softer this time,
with less of the will-he-won't-he about it and more wow-he-did in
there. The nervous uh-huhs also made a reappearance as a smiling
Superman asked her if she was all right before saying good night
and flying off. His departure seemed to bring Lois back to earth,
so that she was able to think again; she took a few steps across
her courtyard, saying softly to herself, "What a super man..."
And then the penny dropped: "Superman..."


The real Lois grinned and said softly, "And so the name is
born... Pity they couldn't give Lucy the credit she deserves,
though."


"I don't think she's even been mentioned," began Clark, but he
had to stop talking because someone was knocking at the door of
"Lois'" apartment. It turned out to be "Clark", arriving to take
Lois out to dinner. The real couple looked at each other -- what
was *he* doing there, just then? Neither of them said anything,
but they didn't have to; the idea that Lois would have made a
date with Clark for *that* evening was equally incomprehensible
to both reporters.


"Lois" didn't seem to notice the incongruity of his arrival,
either -- nor anything else much. She had reverted to the
bedazzled state of a few minutes before, prompting Clark to ask,
by means of a hand-signal, if she'd been drinking. Alcohol might
have had less of an effect on her, although she was at least able
to function enough to go through the motions of getting ready to
go out. While she was off-screen getting her purse, Clark babbled
on about what they were going to do, but his actions belied his
voice. He began by taking off his glasses and playing with them
gently, a smug smirk on his face at Lois' current state of mind.
Then he looked thoughtful and, in a rather neat piece of acting,
his whole stance changed. It had not been readily apparent, but
the actor must have been hunched over in his Clark Kent guise,
because he was able to straighten up to stand at least two inches
taller, which, combined with a change of expression, meant that
had Lois come back at that moment, his double identity would have
been totally blown.


Indeed, he seemed to be thinking of blowing it himself, because
his voice changed subtly, becoming stronger, and he seemed to be
working up to telling Lois the truth -- only to chicken out at
the last moment, hunching up, putting his glasses back on and
relapsing into babble as she came back into the room. She didn't
notice anything because she was still zonked out; her state of
mind was clearly demonstrated by her dreamy comment to Clark as
he closed the door behind her, still gabbling about what a good
time he was going to show her: "That's Clark, nice..."


"Ooooohhhhh! You *eediot!*" snorted Lois in her best Ren Hoek
imitation. She turned to Clark. "Why didn't he tell her?"


Clark was in two minds as to whether to answer, having been
guilty of the same deception himself. Lois *said* she understood
why he hadn't told her about his dual identity, and also that she
knew that he'd tried to tell her several times but, deep down, he
thought that they both wished that, one of those times, he'd been
able to finish what he'd been trying to say before Jason Mazik or
someone else had dragged him away.


"I think for the same reason that I didn't want to tell you,
right at the start," he said finally, and very carefully, "He
doesn't know how she'll react, and his secret is too important to
risk. And, by the way he acted, he's so used to keeping the
secret that it's almost instinctive to retreat into his disguise,
to dissemble, to act the fool -- *anything* rather than let
someone know that Clark Kent could be more than he seems... And
she's so... spaced out over Superman -- I don't know whether it'd
be safer or more risky to tell her than it would have been to
tell you."


"Huh?" said Lois in astonishment, turning to face him with a
mixture of anger and concern in her eyes. "What does *that*
mean?" she challenged, her heretofore-perfect future suddenly
filled with doubt. So comfortable until then, she could feel
herself tense up, and she knew that, inside, she was
involuntarily preparing to lash out at him, her usual knee-jerk
reaction to any sort of emotional threat.


"Hey, take it easy..." he murmured, stopping the tape and
looking deeply into her eyes. His expression, especially that in
his eyes, showed nothing but love and concern for her. That
almost calmed her down, but the insecurity that had sprung up in
response to his words would not be pacified so easily. She said
nothing, but he felt her relax just a little, and so went on,
"Lois, we've been through all this before. It took me nearly two
years before I was ready to tell you about Superman because I
didn't know how you would react to finding out that the hero was
really only me, Clark, the 'hack from Nowheresville'. You were
infatuated with Superman and we'd become friends at work, and I
was afraid that you wouldn't want to have anything to do with me
once you found out that I'd kept this secret from you, that I'd
lose all of what little I had if you knew. It wasn't until your
feelings for Superman cooled and you began to feel for me -- the
*real* me, the farm boy from Kansas -- what I have always felt
about you, that I could justify to myself taking the risk of
telling you.


"Then, of course," he continued in a dry, resigned voice, "when
I *wanted* to tell you, so that we could take our relationship
beyond that point, I could never get the chance!


"What I meant about *her*..." He waved one hand in the
direction of the TV. "...was that she's reacting to Superman even
more strongly than you did, and that makes her unpredictable.
Even at your most obsessed, when you would charge halfway across
town because someone said that Superman had been seen flying
overhead, you were always so much... sharper than she is. It was
the considered opinion of the newsroom that you were completely
nuts, totally ga-ga over Superman, but your mind never stopped
working, you were always *thinking*... That was-- *is* one of the
things I love about you.


"But *she's* barely on the same planet! If he was to tell her
that Clark Kent is Superman, then one of two things could happen:
either she'll think it's great, and they might get to somewhere
near where we are now, in two days rather than two-and-a-half
years; *or*, she'll be so angry and let-down that she'll reject
both men and probably splash his secret all over the front page
of the Planet. The first alternative is wonderful, but the risk
of the second is just too great... Remember, it's not just his
life, he's got his mother to think about.


"That's all I meant..." His voice trailed off as Lois moved
over to hug him tightly, her face buried against his chest,
sniffing to herself quietly.


She was so relieved, and more than a little annoyed at herself.
How many times did Clark have to reassure her that he trusted her
completely? Why was she so scared, even after all this time, that
he would hurt her? How long would it take before she could stand
to listen to what he had to say without instantly going on the
defensive -- *her* defensive, which anybody else would call
all-out attack -- against real or imagined criticism? And why did
he put up with her, anyway? She didn't know, but she thanked God
yet again for it. And then she stopped berating herself and
simply lost herself in the feel of him, of his arms around her,
and in the peace which their being together brought to her.


"I was *not* ga-ga over you," she muttered, some time later, in
a small, snuffly voice which somehow managed to be indignant and
happy at the same time, "And I *didn't* go charging halfway
across town just because someone said you'd been flying past..."


"Oh yes, you did. Remember Berkowitz Park?" he chuckled,
teasing her.


She lifted her head from his chest, obviously thinking hard.
Suddenly, she reddened and her head bowed. He laughed and hugged
her again. She looked up at him through her hair, her slightly
moist eyes sparkling as she murmured nervously, "Um... can I
plead temporary insanity?"


He reached out and took her head in his hand in a certain way.
He gently tilted her face up to his. "Only if I get to plead
*permanent* insanity," he said, "Because *I* am totally, utterly
and completely nuts about *you!*" Before she could say anything,
he leaned forward to gently kiss her. The kiss began as the
gentlest brush of lips, but Lois, suddenly needing to express her
feelings -- love, gratitude, relief, passion -- took it deeper.
Clark had been holding himself back, waiting to see what was
appropriate, but he responded enthusiastically, and time stopped
for both of them for a while.


Eventually, smiling and breathing rather heavily, they wriggled
back into comfortable positions on the couch and started the tape
again to see Miss Tessmocher poring over the Daily Planet in
Luthor's "library". The paper bore the headline "I Spent The
Night With SUPERMAN: An Exclusive Interview by Lois Lane". Lois
was slightly embarrassed by the double-entendre headline, but
said nothing; if Clark had picked up on it, he was also keeping
quiet. They listened to the woman extol the virtues of the hero
to Luthor, who wasn't particularly impressed. Indeed, he seemed
to regard Superman as a mere annoyance; it needed to be dealt
with, but he begrudged the time and effort that it would take to
do so. And it became obvious, in amongst the by-now usual banter
between the three villains, that he had already worked out how to
overcome this minor obstacle.


Luthor was looking through a back copy of National Geographic,
and he triumphantly tore out a page showing an Ethiopian
geologist with an unusual green meteorite that had been found
about the time that Superman had arrived on Earth. Miss
Tessmocher and Otis didn't get the point, so he explained with
great patience (or what he would have thought so, anyway; anyone
else would have called it massive condescension) that the rock
was a piece of the planet Krypton, and its "specific
radioactivity" was so high that it would be lethal to Superman.
Miss Tessmocher thought that, even so, Luthor wouldn't be able to
get anywhere near the Kryptonian with the rock, but he countered
with Superman's inability to see through lead. The scene ended
with Luthor smiling benignly while Miss Tessmocher and Otis
discussed the latest fashions in Addis Ababa.


"Aha! I *knew* it was a bad idea to tell her about the lead
problem with your vision gizmo," said Lois gleefully.


"Hey, I'm not arguing..." agreed Clark. "What *I'm* trying to
work out is how he knows so much about Krypton. Unless there was
a lot more to that interview than we saw, there was no mention of
where Krypton was, other than it was in another galaxy, or how
long it took the spaceship to get to Earth, or even that I came
to Earth as a child. So how does he know where and when to look
for Kryptonite?"


"I take your point. And what's this 'specific radioactivity'
business, oh science whiz?"


"Beats me... But then, no-one really knows why Kryptonite only
affects me and not humans, anyway. Guess this is their version of
technobabble to explain that."


"Ah, my man the Trekkie..."


The film cut to a scene of a driverless car moving along a
country road. The car turned out to be radio-controlled by
Luthor, who was suddenly looking a lot younger in a blond wig and
a white outfit of some sort. With a few quick motions of his
controls, Luthor sent it into a tumbling skid which ended with it
back upright after a couple of rolls, but in a distinctly wrecked
state.


Coming the other way was a convoy of three cars and an Army
missile transporter. They probably would have stopped to render
assistance to a wrecked vehicle anyway, but the sight of Miss
Tessmocher lying spread-eagled next to the car, displaying
liberal amounts of cleavage and leg by means of a bright red,
*very* low-cut, very short dress, guaranteed that the convoy
stopped and soldiers poured out to gather around her. A sergeant
examined the "unconscious" woman, reporting to his lieutenant --
who was all business, snapping out orders intended to get the
convoy back underway as soon as was possible after rendering aid
to any victims, until he actually *saw* Miss Tessmocher -- that
she was having trouble breathing ('Probably choking from trying
not to laugh out loud,' Lois thought to herself). The lieutenant
recommended vigorous chest massage and possibly mouth-to-mouth
resuscitation, at which point Clark, who had been frowning
shortly before, cracked up again.


Lois looked over at him with a long-suffering expression. "Care
to explain yourself *this* time?" she asked.


"Sure, Lois," he chuckled. "I was wondering how she was
supposed to have been thrown out of that car when all the doors
and windows are shut, but then that guy started talking about how
to treat her 'breathing problem'. Remember I told you a while ago
that during my travels, I spent some time in Australia, doing
some surfing? Well, I got to know some of the volunteer
life-savers on various beaches; when they're on duty, it's like
being on stake-out -- long, boring waits with maybe a few
exciting moments. Anyway, one topic of conversation during the
boring bits was which position in the rescue squad would be more
fun if you pulled a girl out of the water; was it better to be
the one who gave her mouth-to-mouth or--" Lois saw where Clark
was going and joined in, amused in spite of herself: "--*chest
massage?*"


Rank hath its privileges, so the lieutenant took over the
"treatment" of the "casualty", ordering the disappointed sergeant
to call an ambulance. In what was presumably meant to preserve
the lady's modesty, the lieutenant then ordered his men to gather
round, to shield his ministrations from public view; this they
were only too happy to do -- until the officer barked out a sharp
order to "About Face!"


With the convoy's entire complement of soldiers, save for the
lieutenant and sergeant, standing in a circle in the middle of
the road, their attention firmly concentrated on what was going
on behind their backs, it wasn't hard, even for Otis, to sneak up
on the missile transporter from the blind side and sneak under
the tarpaulin over the missile. Once hidden from view, he opened
a panel on the side of the missile and began to change the
settings on a bank of controls, using numbers written on the
inside of his arm as a guide. Lois and Clark grinned at that,
remembering Jimmy's past use of his arms as notepads.


An ambulance arrived, and the driver was revealed to be Luthor,
explaining the white outfit. Miss Tessmocher was loaded into the
van, which drove off, as did the convoy. The "ambulance" stopped
a short way down the road to collect Otis, who was flushed with
pleasure at completing his assignment successfully.


Luthor wasn't so sure, however, and, as he drove off, asked
Otis to go over exactly what he had done, step by step. Luthor's
mistrust turned out to be justified; it seemed that Otis had
mislabelled his arm, combining the settings for two of the
"directional vectors" into one. Naturally, Luthor was furious
and, after abusing Otis verbally with increasing fury, he began
to attack the unfortunate fool physically -- while he was
supposed to be driving the van. Only by Miss Tessmocher leaping
for the steering wheel did the ambulance not run off the road and
down the side of a hill.


So they had to do it all again. This time, an identical Navy
convoy crossing a bridge found itself blocked by a large truck
moving a house. The naval men were enraged by the obstruction on
a road that supposedly had been cleared for their passage, and
the Marine escort poured out to confront the obstructers, but
Luthor and Otis played the ignorant and slightly dumb rustic
types to good effect and soon had the officers poring over a map,
trying to work out how the truck had got to where it was and how
it could get to where it was supposedly going.


Meanwhile, with all the attention at the front of the convoy,
Miss Tessmocher, still in the red dress but with a tool belt
around her waist, climbed onto the bridge by the rear of the
missile transporter and ducked under the tarpaulin. She proceeded
to open a similar access panel and set this missile's directional
vector indicators; she must have done it to Luthor's satisfaction
because nothing further was mentioned about the job.


The next scene showed "Jimmy" on top of a large concrete dam.
"Hey, that's Boulder Dam, isn't it"? said Lois.


"Sure looks like it."


Jimmy took a few pictures and then the film cut to a red car
driving along a deserted road out in the middle of nowhere.
Inside the car, "Lois" was interviewing a Native American Chief
about his tribe selling their land to an unknown buyer. The Chief
had no qualms about the sale because the land was, in his words,
"worthless desert", and the price paid for it was stupidly high.


"Uh-oh," murmured Lois. "I smell a plot development." Clark
raised an eyebrow at her, and she continued, "Well, you heard
'Lex' going on about how valuable land was, and all of a sudden
she's writing about someone buying lots of worthless land at
crazy prices; sounds to me like his Master Plan -- which
obviously has to have something to do with those missiles -- is
about to get put into motion."


Clark nodded in agreement and turned back to the screen in time
to see Lois' car nearly run off the road because she was
concentrating on talking to the Chief rather than driving. He had
to grin at that, because it was very much in character; the real
Lois had yet to actually leave the road when she focused on
something else while driving, but he remembered several hairy
rides in the jeep.


Lois noticed the grin and wanted to know what was so amusing.
He tried to duck the question, but she wasn't having any.
Finally, he gave in and said, "Well, if you must know, I was
remembering that time when we were going to interview Tim and
Amber Lake, when you slammed on the brakes because you were mad
at James Bond..."


"Oh, is that so, Mr Ricky Ricardo Kent?" Lois shot back
playfully. "And who was it who answered the phone saying,
'Hola'?"


"Okay, okay. You got me there, Miss Goodbottom." Lois broke
into giggles, which only got worse when Clark leaned over and
looked her up and down, then went on, "Actually, you do have a
good bottom. More than good -- excellent, I'd have to say."


Lois stopped laughing and looked into his eyes, her face and
voice suddenly provocatively sultry. "So do you," she said
huskily.


"Oh, you noticed?"


"You better believe it..." She proceeded to demonstrate this by
reaching down and gripping that bit of his anatomy, firmly and,
for Clark, very pleasantly. He decided not to "retaliate",
because that would probably mean goodbye to the movie and, as
tempting as the idea was -- *incredibly* tempting, he had to
admit to himself -- he was concerned about the origin of this
strange tape and wanted to see the rest of it, in case it
provided some clues as to where and how it had been made. He
settled for turning slightly in order to put both arms around
Lois -- *above* the waist -- and kissing her thoroughly. Her
hands tightened on his buttocks as the kiss intensified, but he
managed to retain enough semblance of conscious thought, despite
the wonderful feel of her hands on him, to gently move her body
onto his lap again when they broke for air.


Lois was a little disappointed, but resolved to play a waiting
game. What was that about distractions? But he wanted to see the
rest of the movie -- okay, there couldn't be *that* much of it
left; but once it was over, watch out, Kent!


A rewind brought the scene on the TV to the Planet newsroom,
where "Clark" was just arriving. TV sets around the room were
showing preparations for the simultaneous launch of both XK-101
missiles.


The real Clark looked puzzled. "Since when does the Pentagon
televise missile tests?"


"Beats me," Lois replied. "If the real DoD did this, I'd want
to know what they were using the tests to hide. This sounds like
something the NIA might have tried in Trevanian's day..."


Back in the newsroom, "Clark" was looking for "Lois", but she
was off in the desert, which turned out to be somewhere in
California. After the obligatory bout of Kent-bashing by his
co-workers, Clark was summoned to Perry's office for what, after
a few obviously expository comments -- such as where Lois and
Jimmy were, and how a "worthless" meteor had been stolen from a
museum in Addis Ababa -- turned out to be a pep talk about being
more assertive. Fortunately, before the editor could get too much
into his stride, his voice was faded into the background as a
high-pitched squeal blared out. Clark winced, and there were
several shots of dogs barking to emphasise the fact that the
squeal was meant to be ultra-sonic. The effect was somewhat
spoiled by Lex Luthor's voice, overlaid on the squeal, calling to
Superman and threatening to gas a large part of the city's
population.


Lois turned to Clark and asked, "Would that work? Using
ultrasonic sound to get a message to you, I mean?"


"It might," Clark replied unenthusiastically. "But it wouldn't
sound like *that*. There's no way that you could get a voice to
sound normal and keep it above the range of human hearing. It'd
be more like a cross between that deafening watch of Jimmy's and
Chip 'n' Dale gone mad. There's *gotta* be a better way of
reaching Superman than that!"


Lois giggled at the thought of Luthor sounding like a chipmunk,
and Clark looked pained. He really didn't like Jimmy's signal
watch, and the thought of having to listen to someone harangue
him in a squeaky voice over the top of the horrible noise was
*not* attractive.


Meantime, "Clark" had left Perry's office and was making his
way along one wall of the newsroom. Such was his ability to be
ignored by everyone that not only did the editor not realise that
he'd gone, but everyone else on that floor of the building paid
no attention to him as he finally reached an open window, climbed
out to sit on the ledge, and then pushed himself off the ledge
and fell towards the street.


Lois was flabbergasted. "Did you see that?" She turned to
Clark, her famous I-don't-believe-this look on her face. "He
walks out on Perry, casually strolls over to an open window and
jumps out -- in the *Planet newsroom?!* We can't even *talk* to
one another without half the people in the place watching us and
trying to listen in on what we're saying, and he effectively
commits suicide -- well, he would be if he weren't you... er,
Superman... oh, you know what I mean!" Clark grinned and nodded.
"The point is, he jumps out the window, and *nobody notices?!*"


Clark shrugged. This was just an extreme example of the
everyone-ignores-Clark-unless-he's-making-a-fool-of-himself
theme that was basic to the portrayal of "him" in the film. He didn't
like it, but there was nothing that he could do about it except
suffer in silence. So he did. Lois was indignant, and voluble,
enough for both of them, which he appreciated, and he decided to
express his appreciation by kissing her. Lois appreciated the
appreciation and kissed him back. The film was forgotten yet
again while they appreciated each other.


They rewound the tape to see the point of "Clark's" unorthodox
exit from the newsroom. As he fell, he assumed the classic flying
position, his clothes shimmered to become the red-and-blue suit,
and Superman pulled out of the dive to streak across Metropolis
at low level.


*Superman* wasn't ignored; office workers (mostly female)
rushed to their windows to see him fly past, following Luthor's
taunting voice, and cars screeched to a halt and pedestrians
gathered around almost immediately when he eventually touched
down on a sidewalk. He waved them back and began to spin in
place. But he wasn't changing clothes the way the real Clark did
when he spun; this Superman was somehow turning himself into a
human drill to dig down to Luthor's underground lair.


Lois looked at Clark. "How's he doing that? I mean, what's
doing the cutting -- his feet?"


Clark shrugged again, which Lois recognised as meaning that he
didn't have the slightest idea, add it to the list of questions
to ask whomever was responsible for this blasted tape. She also
sensed that he was getting slightly fed up with the melange of
oddities, not-quite-right-details and downright impossibilities
that the film kept throwing at them. She hugged him one more
time, trying yet again to convey that she was there to help, and
was rewarded by not only having the hug returned but by feeling a
certain tension leave him. She smiled; knowing that she could
help in situations like this, and that he would accept her help
gratefully, without feeling threatened by it, was something that
she valued greatly about their relationship. Of course, the fact
that "helping" often involved getting her hands on his gorgeous
body sure didn't hurt...


By now, Superman had reached the underground walkway between
the wall niche and the actual entrance to Luthor's hide-out. As
he walked along the short length of corridor, he was attacked by
various of Luthor's defences -- flame-throwers, machine guns and
the like -- but all were completely ineffectual. This surprised
neither person watching the TV, nor, it seemed, Luthor, who
looked to simply be going through the motions.


The three villains waited expectantly as the reinforced door
into the hide-out bent, bulged and finally exploded under the
impact of what sounded like a super-strong push and a couple of
punches, allowing Superman to enter. Lex sat back, basking in his
ego and the self-assurance that it brought; Miss Tessmocher,
unusually demure in white, ran a hand over her hair and clothes;
and Otis listened at the door, rapidly retiring behind Luthor
when the metal deformed under Superman's attack.

Superman strode in, glowering at Luthor, who enjoyed a little
mocking banter with him before revealing with a laugh that the
poison gas was a hoax, just an idea that Lex had toyed with once
and had used to get Superman to come to him.


Superman wasn't impressed. His reply to Luthor's teasing was to
abuse the man, calling him sick and twisted. Clark winced; this
guy had a *serious* over-confidence problem, not to mention
manners that his mother would *not* have stood for from any
member of her family. Luthor had gone to a lot of effort to get
Superman there -- modulated ultrasonic signals strong enough to
blanket the entire city didn't just happen, they required
something pretty powerful to generate them, which implied the
availability and use of a *lot* of resources. And the underground
lair was hardly the residence of a harmless crank. Okay, so the
guns and flame-throwers and things hadn't worked, but Clark was
pretty sure that he'd have suspected that there was more to
Luthor than met the eye, even in the earliest days of his
super-career. In fact, he *had* -- but then, the "Messenger"
sabotage attempt was a pretty clear example of the real Luthor's
basic, but carefully hidden, evil nature. And the screen Luthor
was an acknowledged criminal....


Not so his screen counterpart, who, having calmed down
slightly, became involved in a long expository conversation with
Luthor. The villain proceeded to lay out his Master Plan for the
hero in classic Hollywood fashion. Basically, Luthor had bought
up thousands of acres of worthless land adjoining the San Andreas
Fault (on the safe side) and was planning to make it into very
desirable, very *expensive* beachfront property -- the "Costa del
Lex", a name that Clark considered very much in character -- by
targeting one of the nuclear missiles on the Fault itself,
causing a massive earthquake that he expected would drop most of
the existing California coast -- and, in passing, the millions of
people who lived on what he described as "the most expensive
strip of land on Earth" -- into the Pacific Ocean.


Lois, meantime, was distracted from the details of Luthor's
plot by his off-hand mention of the size of the missile warhead
that was to turn much of California into a second Atlantis.
"*What?!*" she cried. "Five *hundred* megatons?!" She looked at
Clark, appalled -- although at what, it was difficult to say.
"Are they kidding? The Army and Navy are conducting nuclear
missile tests with *live* warheads that big? In *public?*"


Clark shrugged, but said nothing. The idea made as little sense
to him as to Lois; in fact, he was sure that the military didn't
even *have* nukes that big -- yet. But, given the unlikely
concept of highly publicised, televised missile tests in the
first place, he supposed that having the missiles carry live
nuclear warheads of planet-cracking size was not that much more
of an exercise in absurdity. He was more interested in the fact
that, unlike the typical Hollywood criminal mastermind, Luthor's
plan had been set in motion *before* he told the hero what was
going on; the conversation between the villain and