Max: Brain Dump 1101

One of them flew overhead a little while ago. I didn't get a good look at him so I don't know whether he was off to fight for justice or evil. Like it makes a difference. Another one ran by at an inhuman speed. The wind he created in his wake knocked me over and scattered some of the wood from my fire. I wonder what would have happened if I had tried to trip him. I guess I would have probably lost my leg. But I laughed to myself at the thought of him hitting the ground face first.

People got all kinds of excited when the first news reports started to trickle in. I wasn't any different. I sat and stared at the TV for hours on end as the news readers kept updating us on how little information they had. There were videos that may or may not have been faked. There were eyewitness reports that may or may not have been mass hysteria. The videos were real and any mass hysteria was brought when people started seeing other people doing things that people weren't supposed to be able to do.

I was excited, but not as shocked as most people. Part of me had been ready for this for years.

I was a bit unbalanced as a teenager. Being a social outcast who spends 90% of his time reading comic books and sci fi novels can make you a little odd. From about age 12 to age 15 I was certain that I was destined to acquire super powers. Every now and then I would jump off a step to see if I could fly yet. I was 15 when I finally found my "super power". It wasn't flying or x-ray vision. It was sitting at a keyboard and making computers do what I wanted them to do. Back then computers were considered to be fancy typewriters or adding machines by most of the few people who used them. To me, it was a loyal and obedient servant. Mostly obedient. Sometimes it put up a fight. But I always won. I almost pissed myself when I found out that you could actually study computers in college.

For four years it was geek heaven. I went from being the only freak who liked what I liked to being the member of a small society of fellow freaks. For four years it was gaming, computers, math, amphetamines and laughing to ourselves at the meatheads on the football team. Sure it was a sausage fest and I left college a virgin. But I wouldn't trade one night of it for all the frat beer parties in the world.

I graduated just in time for computers to become the can't-live-without tool every business needed, even if they didn't know what for. I was the shaman at work. Or a witch. I controlled the mysterious technical forces that none of the other villagers could even begin to understand. I knew they hated me. They would have probably burned me at the stake and buried me in unhallowed ground if they could. But they knew they were screwed without me. I had money, I had my apartment, and I had every toy - computer or otherwise - a geek could want. Things were looking good.

Then someone saw someone flying. I don't mean in an airplane. I mean up, up and away. Out of nowhere people where turning green or growing wings or getting strong enough to juggle tanks. The remnants of that strange little freak I had been was certain my powers would be showing up before too long. They never did. No flying. No super strength. No laser blasts. Not even x-ray vision. The kid who was certain he was destined to be super was watching from a distance as other fuckers got powers.

Then I realized that I may not have had physical powers, but I had a brain that was well beyond that of mere mortals. In comics there were more than a few non-super superheroes who still managed to kick ass. It didn't take me long to put together a costume and a utility belt loaded with a stun gun, my hot-rotted PDA and other "super" toys. I went out to fight for justice. At first, there was little injustice where I lived for me to battle. I mean, there was plenty of typical injustice. Poverty and all that. But I wanted to be a hero, not a social worker. Finally the day came. Some ass who called himself "Devastator" was ripping downtown apart. I rushed into battle. I don't remember what happened next, but according to the news reports he sent my flying down the street with a flick of his finger. I spent a couple of months in a hospital room with five other survivors of Devastator's attack.

After that, like most of everybody, I was on the sidelines. I watched as some of them rescued people from burning buildings and stopped crime while others knocked buildings down and took whatever they wanted from us puny humans.

Like some sort of super arms race, the battles between the heroes and the villains kept getting bigger. They would have epic battles of good versus evil. Of course, "good versus evil" didn't mean much to the people who kept getting in the way. Huge chunks of cities where knocked down in the space of few minutes. The corpses of those who were to stupid to run where scattered everywhere. The broken bodies and minds of those who didn't run quite fast enough flooded the hospitals. When the hero supers won, they would always apologize and explain that the destruction of life and property was what they were fighting to stop.

They promised to beat back the villains and make the world safe for good and decent people.

Soon, most cities looked like the war zones we used to see on the news. Utilities that weren't completely destroyed where usually in bad shape. Without moving I went from living in a 21st century geek paradise to a dark room without running water, much less internet. Like most people I eventually found it was best to stay away from large buildings. So I moved here, with my fire, my ground and all the grass and rats I can eat.

Most people tune out the explosions and sonic booms off the the distance. They're just happy that it was off in the distance rather than right on top of them. Me, I listen. For every one of them who gets killed in battle, whether "hero" or "villain" - it hardly makes a difference which called themselves which - I treat myself to a little extra rat.