Kingdom Come

by Elliot S Maggin

  “Greetings, citizens!” the long-haired clueless kid in the Superman suit said to Clark Kent and Diana Prince. “Smoking or nonsmoking?”

  “Be nice, Clark,” Diana warned.

  “Look over there,” Clark said in that quietly commanding voice as I first noticed them. He was pointing at our table. Then they were coming over. “Diana, you remember Norman, don’t you?”

  “Of course. And is that you, James?”

  “After a fashion,” Jim Corrigan said.

  “Clark,” I said, quite flustered. He must think I go through life flustered. “And I’m delighted to meet you Miss, uh, Ms.…”

  “Diana’s fine, Pastor.”

  I believe I was sweating. Ellen would be mortified. “What brings you here, of all places?”

  “Meeting a friend,” Clark said.

  “Always a good idea to put this guy in unfamiliar territory.” Diana smiled.

  “Who? Clark?”

  “No, our friend,” she said. “Bruce. Need to work hard to keep him in line.”

  “Interesting seeing you again,” Jim said. “We were just finishing up.”

  “We were just ordering another cup of coffee,” I said, motioning for Jim to stay in his seat. I had no intention of missing this one.

  *

  “May I seat you, or would you like to go to the counter?” a smiling but firm young man dressed as the Blue Beetle interrupted.

  “Seating us would be fine,” Diana told the Blue Beetle, and laid a hand on Clark’s arm. “There’ll be three of us.”

  “Would you like to be paged when the rest of your party arrives?”

  “I’m sure he’ll have no trouble finding us.” They sat at a table for four.

  “This is awful, you know,” were the first words Clark told Diana when they sat down. “Worse than I would have imagined.”

  “What do you mean? They gave us a menu right away. Want to order?” She was enjoying herself, and he found this perplexing.

  “Don’t you think this is…”

  “What?” she wanted to know.

  “Well, don’t you find any of this unsettling?”

  She looked around, and finally she managed to see the place through his eyes. “I was brought up differently from you, Clark.” She smiled.

  “What do you mean?”

  “I grew up in an environment where it was the fashion among mortals to pay exorbitant homage to the gods. It’s not a church, Clark, it’s a restaurant. Relax.”

  “Where is he, anyway? He’s never late.”

  “You’re the one with the X-ray vision. Did you look behind the giant penny?”

  “You didn’t tell him, did you?”

  “And ruin your moment? Who am I to deprive you of the opportunity to see the Batman surprised?”

  “You think anybody else will recognize us? It’s pretty crowded in here.”

  “This, from the man who kept his secret for years in a newsroom of all places, using nothing but a pair of glasses and a string of lame excuses. Are you all right, Clark?”

  “I guess I’m actually a little nervous.”

  “Really? That might be better than seeing Bruce stumped.”

  “So you don’t think anybody’ll notice?”

  “Us? Hardly likely. In the first place,” Diana said, “you wrote the book on secret identities—”

  “And in the second place,” it was not Diana’s voice, but that icy tone that seemed to come from all directions at once, “amid all this tawdry bric-a-brac, if we were fighting Dreadnaught and the Monster Society of Evil in full regalia, they’d all think it was some sort of floor show. Clark. Diana.”

  “There you are. How in the stars do you do that, Bruce?” Clark demanded. “You sneaked up on me. Me! Were you hiding behind a lead-lined potted palm?”

  “Do you seriously think you would have noticed?” Bruce Wayne negotiated his significant bulk, his unwieldy titanium framing, and the overcoat that covered it all, among the bustling paraphernalia of this place and into the narrow chair as skillfully as a T’ai Chi master slices through a street riot.

  “Good to see you under brighter circumstances, Bruce.” Clark turned sincere and Diana just grinned. “How’re the boys?”

  “Dick’s on the way to a full recovery. I believe I’ve convinced him to stick more to the nerve center in his future activities and leave off the running and jumping and swinging from ropes. He’d just as soon not end up with a cyborg skeletal system, too.”

  “And Xu’ffasch?” Diana asked.

  “I’m leaving him to my gr— Uh,” and he paused. Life held few uncertainties for Bruce Wayne, but relationships always seemed beyond his grasp. Just what was Nightstar to him? “To Dick’s daughter. They seem to be getting on well. She’s counseling him. Maybe he’ll turn around yet.”

  “Really?” Diana and Clark said simultaneously, looking at each other.

  “He’s got a bit of a values problem, of course,” Bruce said, “but he’ll get over it, I think. He keeps talking lately about the proper disposition for the sort of enormous resources that he controls. That’s what happens when you’re raised by an isolated society. You end up a little brainwashed.”

  “You don’t say,” Diana observed, and Bruce ignored the irony. “There’s always your example.”

  “How so?” from Bruce.

  “You certainly use your resources in a responsible way.”

  “No.” Bruce allowed a slight chuckle. “In Xu’ffasch’s case we’re talking about significant wealth. Not like mine.”

  “A billion here, a billion there.” Clark sniffed.

  “May I get you something to drink?” a waiter in the old Aquaman outfit with faux scales on his shirt asked.

  “See?” Clark said. “He didn’t sneak up on me. Milk, please.”

  “Water is fine,” Diana said.

  And Bruce ordered, “Coffee. Black. And keep it coming.”

  “We charge extra after the second cup.”

  “Fine.”

  “It’s not the full price, but just—”

  “Fine.”

  “We just need for you to know that—”

  “I’m losing consciousness as well as interest waiting for my caffeine fix.”

  The waiter vanished.

  “It used to be easier to strike fear in the hearts of the incompetent,” Bruce snarled at Clark as a steaming mug of black double-roasted Java appeared at the table. It would be a few minutes before the milk or water got here.

  “Maybe the costume had something to do with it after all.”

  Bruce looked around, caught sight of a thick young fellow busing tables in a Batman outfit, nearly dropping a dish as a heedless patron stepped on his cape on the way out. “Maybe not,” he said. “So tell me. Of all the burger joints in all the world, why’d you pick this one?”

  “I didn’t,” Clark said.

  “I did,” Diana said, still smiling, still drinking in the mindless worship all around her. “I was curious. The atmosphere is elevating and humbling at the same time. Some of us can always use a little more humility.”

  “Kind of puts you on a pedestal, eh, Princess?”

  “A little. And there’s the humbling part.”

  “Excuse me.” A man leaned over toward Bruce from a neighboring table. “Are you by any chance—”

  “I am,” Bruce said before the man had the chance to say…

  “—using the ketchup? We’ve run out.”

  “Ah,” Bruce said. “Be my guest.”

  Clark winked at the elderly white-bearded little minister a few tables away—at me. My friend was murmuring a blow-by-blow account of the conversation as it unfolded. I laughed. For a moment Bruce Wayne looked in our direction, too, and shrugged. Corrigan’s back was to him.

  “So I gather from your communication that we have business?” Bruce asked.

  “Not business, really,” Clark said.

  “Some things to settle. News to share. We have not really spoken since Captain Marve
l’s incident,” Diana said. “I think it’s appropriate to start by remembering those sister and brother warriors who fell in battle.”

  “Of course.” Bruce lifted his Green Lantern mug.

  “To past friends,” Clark said, and three drinks clicked among the three grateful survivors.

  “Hi, I’m Robin,” a girl in a yellow cape and green eyeshades said.

  “Of course you are,” the Batman said.

  “Are you ready to order?”

  “Steak,” Bruce Wayne said. “Well done.”

  “Well,” Robin said, “there’s the Man of Beef, the Mongul Monstrosity, or could I recommend the Dynamic Duo? It’s like surf and turf, only—”

  “Steak,” he repeated. “Well done.”

  “Yes sir.”

  “See? It isn’t the costume,” Bruce said to Clark, and Robin smiled, supposing he was referring to hers.

  “I’ll just have your giant turtle soup,” Diana said.

  “And for you, sir?”

  “Do you serve anything like beef bourguignon?” Clark asked.

  “We have Starro the Casserole,” Robin said, reenergized. “It’s got a special sauce that tastes a little like—”

  “Fine,” Clark said. “And maybe you could get us another bottle of ketchup.”

  “Yes sir. Ma’am. Sir,” and she was gone.

  Bruce leaned back and dropped his coat onto the back of his chair, revealing the titanium shoulder framing. Still, no one appeared to notice the trio any more than they noticed the Bronze Age wallpaper.

  “So I don’t recall anyone blowing up a federal building since last we spoke, Diana. Your remedial socialization program goes well?”

  “Teaching. We call it teaching,” Diana said.

  “Absolutely,” Bruce said. “I teach, too. But I still have to change the frequency on the inhibitor collars twice a day to keep the riffraff subdued.”

  “Even Luthor?” Clark wanted to know.

  “Not so much. I caught him down in the cave twice last month trying to hack the computer. He sends his best.”

  “Really?”

  “No.”

  “If the experience of the Gulag showed us anything, it’s that students have to want to learn,” Diana said. “Mine are getting there.”

  “Seeing most of your friends wiped out because of a stupidity you share with them is a fine incentive to learning, I’ve found.” Bruce was slower than she to find charity. “The tactic worked wonders in the Gotham inner city during the drug revival about a generation back. I can’t claim any credit for cleaning up that one.”

  “Perhaps some of the hard cases at your place would profit by a few months on our Island.”

  “I’ll keep it in mind. And you, Clark? Still working at restoring the agricultural balance? The food supply seems back up. How irradiated is the soil these days?”

  “I have no interest in growing house-sized zucchinis. As when we built the Gulag, the Ray and Jade have been a big help stripping the land of radioactivity.” Clark smiled. “I expect the rest is a question of hard work and patience. I imagine you can relate.”

  “We’re doing rather well in our rehabilitation efforts,” Bruce said. “Fortunately I’m not laboring alone. I have been able to put several members of the Mankind Liberation Front to work in our ad hoc hospital. Vandal Savage alone is especially helpful, you should know. Fifty thousand years gives a man lots of time to figure out some pretty effective arcane healing tricks. Ever hear of using a hawthorne plant?”

  “You mean to retard heart disease?” Diana asked. “The Amazons have been doing it for centuries.”

  “I’m sure,” Bruce said. “Oh really, miss,” he added as the steak arrived and Robin ducked away again, “that’s not even remotely well done. Miss?”

  She was gone. As Bruce called to her, Clark noticed the steak with his heat vision, and by the time Bruce looked down again, it was blackened around the edges and deep brown at the center.

  Having Jim Corrigan to convey every word to me was better than using my own aging ears.

  “Do I leave you the tip?” Bruce asked Clark. “So what’s on your minds? Surely we aren’t here just to compare résumés.”

  “Well.” Diana paused as Bruce cut into his steak and Clark reached for the missing bottle of ketchup. “We have something to announce.”

  “You’re pregnant.” Bruce looked down, taking his first bite. He made a point of not looking up to note the inevitable flabbergasted looks on the faces of his old friends. In fact, halfway across the room when Jim murmured to me what he’d said, I dropped both a fork and a partial from my mouth.

  “How did you—?” Diana asked. She tried again to complete her question: “How could you possibly—?” and could not.

  “Observation,” he said. “For an ageless Amazon of perfect physique, you’ve put on a pound or two. That was my first clue.”

  “Well, four or five actually, but who’s counting?”

  “And your hair’s a little grayer and your skin’s a little clearer.”

  “My skin is clearer? How is that possible?” She thought to be facetious, but in fact it did not seem quite possible. Her skin may not have been any clearer now, but it positively glowed.

  “My best to you both. Congratulations on bringing another spit-curled demigod into the world. Sorry if I stepped on your dénouement, Princess.”

  “I don’t believe it.” Clark let his fork drop on the squeaky-clean, five-pointed plate that minutes ago had held a full portion of Starro the Casserole and half a bottle of ketchup. “How old do I have to get before I can stump you, Bruce? Always the detective.”

  “Well, let’s see how well honed his escape artistry is these days.” Diana’s eyes narrowed as she leaned over the table toward both men. “Bruce, I want a commitment from you. I’d like you to be our child’s godfather.”

  “What?” Clark said, just a touch astonished.

  “Me?” Bruce responded. “I don’t know what to say.”

  “Really? Then I win. The day is full of surprises.” Diana smiled and ordered dessert. “Apokolips pie,” she said to Robin the waitperson. “Chocolate ice cream on the inside and dark chocolate cookie crumbs and chocolate chips on the outside. Yum. I love being pregnant.”

  “Make that three,” Clark told Robin.

  “I never order dessert,” Bruce said.

  “I know,” Clark said, “but I’m always eating for two. Sometimes eight or ten.”

  “News to you too, I take it?” Bruce asked Clark.

  “About your being the godfather? What isn’t when it comes to her? When Diana runs out of news, she makes something up.”

  “Diana,” Bruce said. “Where I come from, a godparent is the person who is responsible for a child’s education, especially his spiritual education. Is that what ‘godfather’ means to you?”

  “Well, yes, actually. We never really made much use of the concept, but I thought the range of this baby’s influences ought to be as broad as we can make it.”

  “Hardly Athena’s wisdom at work, Diana. My record as a parent isn’t spotless.”

  “Your record as a man is pretty impressive,” and she took Bruce Wayne’s hand—took it firmly, the way a man might take a woman’s hand.

  “Diana,” he said quietly. Finally, she’d found a way to move him.

  “You’re seeing Talia soon.”

  “Now you’re the detective? How did you know?”

  “As long as I’ve known you, Bruce, whenever I’ve touched your hand it’s been solid as a rock. Not now.”

  The Batman blushed. I did not believe it either, but Jim Corrigan confirmed it. The Batman blushed.

  Superman laughed.

  “I’m meeting her at the airport in about two and a half hours. I thought seeing you two for lunch would be just the cold shower I needed.”

  “Surprise!” Clark said, and grinned.

  “Bruce,” Diana said, letting go his leafy hand, “I’ll be the first to admit I know very little
about fatherhood, but there are things you can teach our child that Clark and I simply can’t. Things we would never conceive of. Doors you breeze through where our minds would not even think to wander. You’re the least Earthbound person I’ve ever met, and that includes the red-haired guy over there.”

  “Now wait, Princess.” Bruce looked in our direction, then held up his hand and put it down again lest it betray more. “This baby’s got a father too. What do you think, Clark?”

  “I think it’s a fine idea.”

  “Yeah, sure, but we’re of such different schools. Listen, Clark, for all practical purposes your word is law in every quarter of the planet—with the possible exception of Gotham—and you do it all by trust. I don’t understand how you do that. I don’t think I’ll ever understand how, with all your power, you’ve still managed to define a life where you don’t really need to use that power. I rely on fear and I always have. I’ve even done that with the partners I’ve taken into my home. Do you truly want a man like me in your child’s life?”

  “More coffee, sir?” a tall dark girl asked him. She wore an old Wonder Woman outfit, with the eagle breastplate.

  “Oh, yes.” Bruce Wayne smiled.

  “Listen, Bruce,” Clark said after a moment’s thought. “Look at the lesson we just learned. Right now the scales of world power are balanced, but still too easy to tip. Our child, more than any other, will need the leavening influence of a mortal man—a moral man—whom we can count on. I’ve disagreed with your judgment from time to time, but never with your intentions.”

  “Never?”

  “Never.”

  “Really.”

  “You’re surprised? Could you not say that about me?”

  Bruce was astonished at the thought. “How could I possibly ever doubt the goodwill of Superman? How could anyone?”

  “Well, I feel the same way about you, Bruce. Why would that surprise you?”

  “Because…” and Bruce Wayne wondered how to put this before he said, “because you’re Superman, and I’m just a guy.”

  “Batman,” Clark said through his last bite of his second Apokolips pie, “you are not just a guy.”

  Diana elbowed Clark in the ribs. If she hurt herself, it did not show. “It’s settled, then?”