Too Little Too Late

Pacing the darkened room, I spoke to the gathered crowd at my feet. These everyday people, all together to witness this moment. Late afternoon rain pelted down above us onto the atrium, giving the light a sombre caste.

"I didn't just wake up one day with a superpower."

My audience sat there huddled together staring up at me. Silent and still. Not even a whisper, the moment drew out a long slow beat or two. There really was nothing like it.

"I wasn't bitten by a radioactive spider or struck by lighting or blasted with gamma rays."

Their pure undivided attention filled me with such glee. It bubbled up inside me and threatened to make me cackle with laughter.

"That would have been much easier," I continued, "No poor unlucky me, I was born with it. I got it from my parents, inherited it like an illness. I had to grow up with it."

I raised my hands for silence, closing my eyes and spreading my arms wide. I waited until the gasps of alarm and the whispers faded. I opened my eyes and looked at them. Again they were silent.

"First things first, I know what you're going to ask." I shook my head in mock sorrow and frustration, "Everyone does when they find out..."

"Yes, I have superhero parents. Yes, it's probably the daring, courageous and caring duo you're thinking of," I said, covering my eyes and waving off their excitement.

"They're probably on your children's cereal boxes. Or their bedspreads."

There were a few nervous nods in the back, I sat down on the stool Jones had set out for me and lit a cigarette. At least I think it was Jones, they all looked the same standing in the wings. Waiting in the shadows, should the need arise.

"Now you might be thinking that's the coolest thing ever, but it's not. There are some serious downsides. I mean you think your parents work a lot, try mine, they have their cover jobs and their night-time occupations. Well, Mom’s mostly daytime, early evening, Dad takes late-shift. Caped Crusader sort of deal. Either way, they were never there,” I snapped that last, the words tumbling out of me.

“I had to google my power when it first came in. Take a moment to think about that. Weird things are happening to their child.

He doesn't learn anything useful from his parents. Nothing specific. Why is this happening? Or that it’s normal in it’s own way. Or how to control it or how to use it. Oh, they mentioned duty and responsibility and whined about sacrifice. But actual, useful things?”

I shake my head. Even now, years later, anger flared like flames across dry wood.

“No, that young boy had to learn from strangers on the internet. Digging around in forums and chat rooms,” I said my fingers gesture frantic typing.

“The main thing I learned was that with absence of love and time, other things fill the void. They influence you. Movies especially, Die Hard was a good one. Had some good ideas."

I cast my gaze around the room and the men on the perimeter gave a few nods.

“In the end, I kept my power from my parents. I pretended I was a 'muggle.'”

“It's not like they can scan me or anything. And all those hormones and body changes it's not something you want to talk about at the dinner table.

“You should have seen the perpetual disappointment on their faces, waiting and hoping I would change. It was worse than any bad report card I ever got.”

“I wanted to get to know it myself before they stuck me in some boarding school to hide me away and mould me into whatever they thought was best.”

I stood for a moment. “Electric Field Manipulation,” I said glancing around.

“I know. Doesn't sound like much. Until you think just how much of our lives is humming along on electricity. And that's just the wires and silicon. The servers, the mainframes, the stock exchanges and banks,” I said gesturing around the room, waving my arms as I said each electrical thing that contained everyone's’ precious data.

“I went through tons of names you know, trying to find the right one. Heartstopper. Brainstorm. Static Void. I checked all of them online, you know for trademarks, didn't want to ruin any future merch. Static Void, I liked, until I learned it was a programming term I couldn't wrap my head around. You need to pick something catchy but not cheesy. Frank Zapper, that gave me a chuckle, taken though.”

They hung on my every word, the air was electric. Everyone had goosebumps. Tiny little hairs standing on end. I'd have been bored stiff by now. But the energy in the room was palpable.

I took a last puff of my cigarette, “this they hated. Nothing in my ability is gonna keep me safe from cancer so maybe they were right to get pissy about it.”

I flicked the butt at a No Smoking sign. It ricochets with a spray of embers.

“Well, today I'm not keeping it quiet, I know what I can do with it now.“

I stand, people in the front flinch backwards, my heavy boots crunch on the broken glass and debris on the floor.

“I can manipulate electric fields. Woohoo, you say. That's not super-strength, that's not laser eyes or supersonic speed. Well, I can shift the electricity in your body, contract your muscles. All at once. Picture those infomercials with the lazy people on the couch getting six-pack abs.”

The phone rang again, it’s piercing shrill echoing through the chamber. The negotiators. Jones, the muscular Welsh mercenary stepped forward.

"Let it ring," I said, gesturing him back to his post, “let them sweat.” The man in the black mask gave a curt nod and moved his gloved hand back to his gun. He took two steps back and became a menacing statue again.

"Where was I, yes, or... I can stop one muscle from working," I make my fist pulse a rhythm and clench it tight to illustrate my point. The colour drains from faces in the front. An older lady faints.

"I can cause a storm across your cerebellum, lightning arcing across your corpus callosum. Make you dance and shiver," I thought of Michael Flatley, while I mimed the shaking and thrashing, Mom loved that crap.

“I can erase memories, or shape them,”I whispered. Jones looked up at that and tilted his head. Seems he wasn't sure why he was here, “It takes fine control but it has it’s uses. Gotta be careful or you can fry everything up there. A big grey omelet.”

Concrete cracked and shattered with a percussive thud, sending shards flying across the room. A reflexive shield shot up around me, deflecting the worst of it. Most of my men were fine, except for unlucky Jones. He wasn’t climbing out of that crater. Glass rained down from the atrium roof. The people scattered letting out gasps and cries of hope. They recognised the colours, the hair I’m sure. The power pose. The hero’s landing.

“What are you doing ?” she demanded marching towards me

“Mom, you’re too late.”