no ordinary world 2

2







*



"Cue the sun!"





A hundred voices relayed the order, echoing from post to post.

Back stage was a world within itself, spanning an entire county grid that Luthor Corp purchased acre by acre. What was once open farm land turned into a enclosed warehouse, complete with moving girders, cranes, set buildings and ever growing construction centers.

Pacing between these stations were scientists, workers, crew and cast members, all frantically finding their positions.

They wore matching headsets that coordinated their rehearsed instruction as actors looked over their assignments for that day.

There was the props department that supplied lamps, cars, briefcases and fresh paper, paper that would be used in the presses at the Daily Star that morning; workers finishing up the last final touches on new items that would be available on the shelves of Smallville's corner store, always the options of blue or red, the two colors that were commonly requested.

The wardrobe department worked through the night, creating new styles for the cast, keeping up the cultural mainstay for iconic style.

And then there were the mechanical systems. There were technicians to filter the atmosphere, to repopulate the minerals, to regenerate the sky and to recharge the sun. Others to maintain the networks of cameras and switches that gridded across the map.

The chemists, meteorologists, geologists, psychologists, mathematicians physicians, and physicists. All consulting one another for data, results and the well being of the variables and control of the experiment.

These departments worked like an independent limb, all moving in different directions that somehow propelled the entire collaboration into a seamless creature of beauty.

Smallville, as the project was named, was the longest running LuthorCorp experiment to date, created by Lionel Luthor himself.

More senior crew members still remember the way Lionel would walk the production every sunrise, smiling as if his entire life was encapsulated in that contained sphere constructed like a snow globe.

But Lionel Luthor would never survive past his obsessions to see the end of his work. This experiment was different than others, taking an entire lifetime to complete.

And so it carried on, onto Lionel's heir.


"Mr. Luthor."


Lex slid his eyes to the assistant, "Yes?"

"Sunrise in fifteen, Sir."

Lex looked to his monitors, fingering the master remote in his palm. "Tell the meteorologist to make it a cloudy morning. Maybe a chance of rain?"

The assistant blinked, "But Sir, the production cost of creating precipitation when our contained atmosphere doesn't require it has been an ongoing issue with our budget."

"Screw the budget." Lex tightened his jaw, "And if I'm not mistaken, I run this world." His pale head turned, eyes cold as ice.

The assistant swallowed thickly and nodded, relaying the forecast.

There was a chance of rain in Smallville today.


*


The crews in the sky balanced on girders and tightropes, repairing the state of the art solar cells that patterned 2,000 ft height. Each cell contained the ability to change pigment and position, thus creating a interchangeable sky that from half a mile below, looked as realistic as you wanted.

The red sun was even more sophisticated. It was a dense matter of photon-cells, refined and innovated in progressive LuthorCorp labs. There were numerous versions of the red sun, today's model soon a relic of the past by tomorrow standards.

Lex watched as the man-made star rose across the sky, bringing a crimson glow to the ground below.

Smallville was designed after the illustrations his father had loved so much. Normal Rockwell seemed simple and pure for most people, but for men like Lionel Luthor, it was stained in irony and satire. Lex never knew a world so kind and nostalgic, his father never gave him one. But Lionel Luthor insisted the environment of the project be as nurturing as possible, to the point of being almost condescending...

Lex could still feel his father's bitter prescence within that world.

It mocked him.

Reminded him .

How much more time Lionel spent living in this world, than in the real one with his own son.

But Lex understood his father's reasons. In Smallville, Lionel Luthor could manipulate people as actors and places like building blocks. Even the sun was a variable he could control.


But there was only one aspect of the experiment that was given free will.


"Clark will wake soon," Lex said to the coordinator, "he's never up before sunrise."

The coordinator stood beside the assistant who stood beside Lex. Both took notes on the current agenda that crossed the billionaire's mind every morning.

"Dr. Hamilton brought to my attention Clark's awareness of the routine. He suggested breaking the habit morning meals. "

The assistant blinked, "No breakfast? But Clark's always had breakfast--"

Lex turned to the coordinator. "That's the problem. Clark expects it. What if he grows bored of expectations and starts searching for something else? We have to control his urges, curve his impulses."

Lex crossed his brows as the coordinator took notes, "Lois wakes up late this morning, skipping the eggs and toast. She doesn't have time to cook today. She'll suggest they stop at the coffee shop, order two kolaches and an orange juice."


In the distance, a cast member caught his attention within the hustle, "Let Clark order what he wants. Note his choices, and modify the system."


"Yes sir." The coordinator disbanded, carrying out Lex's orders.

Lex frowned, following the footsteps of the cast member, stopping the man clothed as a mail carrier. He straightened his collar,and then sent him on his way, the actor disappearing through one of the seamless doors to the inside world.

"There are to be no flaws, understood?" Lex said to his assistant, turning to make way for the observation tower. "This world was developed to be as perfect as
Clark wants it. We can't stand a chance of breaking up the reality we've given him. We can't break the illusion."

Lex ascended the steps, a world of personnel underneath him, a moving sea of bodies that kept the experiment alive, an organism on its own.


*

As the first ray of light struck the window shops, shop owners turned over their "open" signs, and swung open their doors.

The mailman walked past the guy at the bus stop on the corner, nodding as he picked up his posts from the designated drop area.

From there he climbed into the mail carrier truck, and started on his way down Main Street where the world was waiting for their cue.

Along the way to the Kent residence, cars passed in no particular rush, milk trucks starting their deliveries and school buses operating in an equally lackadaisical way.

Down the country road, there were a few colorful farm houses, the bright yellow one on the far stretch the origin of this entire grid. That was where it had all started, from those forty some acres to where it spread for miles outward.

Further down was a newer, small neighborhood where the Kent house stood between white picket fences.

The mail truck parked down the street, the carrier opening up his sliding door and removing the basket of mail that he was instructed to deliver before the Kents walked out their door.


*

Clark was already awake sipping from his coffee mug, staring at the empty kitchen table, clothed in only his bathrobe and scruffy bedhead.

The sun seemed to be up later than usual, yet Clark's watch said differently.

Maybe the night just felt longer, Clark thought wanly. He wasn't sleeping as well.

Lois walked in fully dressed and ready for work, putting on her last earring. "Morning, sweetie."

Clark smiled over his mug, "Morning, Lois."

"Sorry, I woke up late and couldn't make breakfast. I know how you look forward to it every morning." Lois opened a cabinet and removed a cup.

"Truthfully," Clark sipped, "I'm kinda relieved."

"You are?" Lois turned and poured herself a cup of coffee.

Clark nodded, "Yeah. I was starting to think I married a robot. You should
let me cook for you sometime."

Lois blinked, cup at her lips, "Would that make you happy?"

Clark smiled, "I'm only happy if you're happy."

She smiled, sipped and then immediately spat the dark liquid out, choking.

Clark stood and rushed over to her. "You, ok?"

"Y-yeah." Lois coughed, "Coffee's just a little strong."

Clark grimaced, "I thought you liked it strong?" He took the cup from her hands, stared into it and sighed. "Ugh, I'm sorry. I just wanted to make the coffee this morning, instead of having you work yourself up. Instead, I've ruined your morning."

"What?" Lois wiped her mouth on her sleeve, "Don't be silly. It's just coffee, Clark."

He looked up with a mopey face.

"It's perfect." She took the cup back from him and drank again, this time her disgust hidden. "See? Perfect."

Clark smiled, and bent down for a kiss until there was a knock at the door.

"Oh!" Lois jolted forward handing him back the coffee, "that's probably the mail man!"

Clark stood in the kitchen, robe open. "I guess I should get dressed."

Lois rounded the corner to the front door, yelling over her shoulder, "You do that, sweetie. And maybe we'll have time to stop at the new do-nut place to get some breakfast and another cup of coffee!" She opened the screen door to where the mail carrier was waiting.

"Mrs. Kent." He smiled, lifting a package from his bag.

"Hey, Joe. What's this?" Lois smiled and reached for the brown box.

She took it in her hands, frowning when he held on.

"A package from Metropolis." He smiled, tipping his hat, finally releasing it.

Lois frowned, and flipped it over. "Metropolis?"

But the mail carrier was already down the sidewalk, continuing his route along the white picket fence.

Lois shut the door, turning the package over again as she walked back to the kitchen.


*

Lex Luthor watched as Lois made her way through the house, a series of cameras and monitors guiding her back to where she placed the little brown box on the table, and studied it.

"Lois." He whispered into his headset, staring down at her image in his monitors.

Her head perked up, earpiece embedded deep within her ear canal.

"Data shows Clark's curiosity about outside of the control to be more elevated than usual." Lex paced from the observation tower, "We are running a new program to minimize his continual veering off course."

Silently, Lex watched as the brunette nodded.

"When I hired you," Lex continued, voice dangerously still, "I expected you to be the perfect match for Clark. To be his soul-mate and best friend. His lover and wife. To make him happy in every way."

Lex crunched his fist. "But data shows his stress levels climbing, his anxiety growing. The primary objective is to keep his spirits high, and his stress levels low. This is your primary objective."

*

Lois swallowed, placing a finger to her ear, crying within a whisper, "What if I can't make him happy?"


There was silence in the house.



"Lois?"


She spun around, seeing Clark standing in the hallway with a puzzled face.

"Hi, handsome." She smiled, leaning against the table.

Clark smiled back, straightening his tie as he walked towards her. "Were you talking to someone?"

"Me?" Lois twisted her brow, "No, just Joe the mail guy. He's gone now."

Clark smiled again, a funny look crossing his eyes. But as he walked closer to plant a kiss on his wife's cheek, they fell to the brown package on the table. "What's this?"



*

Lex watched as Clark picked up the little brown box.

There was curiosity there, wonder.

The doctors beside Lex took notes.

"Gentlemen," Lex announced as he faced away from the array of monitors, "As our project extends into the next phase, our sole issue is keeping the subject content, happy. So what makes a man content with his life? Is it a fulfilling job, ambition, money,the ability to create a loving family?"

Lex crossed the room, his footsteps falling on a mirror waxed tile floor. "We've provided all these things for Clark. And yet, results show his constitution levels waning. What is the problem?"

The crowd of doctors looked at each other, pencils to clipboards talking amongst them.

Lex crossed the room again, head bowed in concentration until one hand rose in the air. "Dr. Hamilton. A suggestion?"

The man with dark curly hair and glasses pursed his lips, stepping out in front. "I've assigned some teams to create a new batch of statistical data that focused primarily on Clark's ability to accept the reality of his world."

"What did you find, Doctor?" Lex's ear perked.

"Love." Hamilton answered simply.

Lex balked, so did the others. "Clark has love, Doctor. Lois Lane was created in precise design to be the perfect mate for Clark. We spent years researching it."

"Yes I know Mr. Luthor," Hamilton nodded, rubbing his chin with his fingers, "I'm not denying the scientific processes we took to formulate the fertile grounds for love in Clark's life. But I believe we've overlooked one vital point in which we seem to be suffering the fallout right now."

Lex frowned. "And what is that?"

Hamilton looked across the room to where Lois and Clark patterned the monitors. "Does she love him in return?"

Murmur spread throughout the observation room.

Lex kept quiet, the idea refining in his mind..

"Clark was raised in staged relationships. His human parents, his childhood sweetheart Lana Lang, even his best friend Peter Ross. " Dr. Emil Hamilton pointed to a close up camera on Clark, his blue eyes smiling within the pixelated image. "I know we all thought that well- nurtured relationships with Clark would be enough to satisfy his mind, to create the illusion of love. But clearly his subconscious is reaching out for more. Perhaps something more real."

"How would his subconscious even recognize the falsities if he knows no different beyond the controlled environment we've given him?" Lex asked, his shoulders squared to the room.

Hamilton blinked, removing his glasses to search the room of other doctors. "The only reasonable answer is that he was exposed to real love before."

Murmur spread again, but it was soon quieted as Lex hissed, "What you're suggesting isn't even an option Dr. Hamilton! You know the danger of introducing her back into the experiment!"

Hamilton took a step back, eyes trained on the monitors. "I know the dangers, Mr. Luthor, believe me. I've spent years throwing my research into this project." He turned, eyes strained and conflicted. "But we all know the real danger if this experiment were to fail. We all remember the results after the first subject rejected his captivity. That was the basis that spurred this secondary project,-- which is why it is imperative for Clark to have what happiness we can afford him. To keep him in this reality so he does not awake to our own."

Lex sighed, pacing the floor again. "Even if it were possible, that variable was terminated years ago."

He looked up to the screen, watching Clark open the box.

Everyone watched as Clark opened it.

"She isn't terminated." Hamilton spoke, narrating as everyone watched the scene, "He's kept her alive in memory."

Her name was forbidden among the project, like a scarlet letter in some secret language, her presence among the experiment tucked away like it had been for so many years. Lionel Luthor banned her existence the day he lost control of her character, lost control of the project. The day he lost control of Clark's influence, his heart.

Lex's eyes fell to the floor. "Chloe Sullivan was the variable we never expected."



*





1 /// 2 /// 3/// 4 /// 5 /// 6 /// 7 /// 8


*