“Excuse me,” I said when he paused to draw breath. All eyes in the room turned towards me; the only chatter in the room now was from the monitors. “I was looking for the producer.”
“That’s me,” the man in the blue polo said. “Who are you, and how’d you get in here?”
Rather than answer, I phased my hand and swiped it through a nearby tabletop.
“A super,” the man said. “Figures.”
“What, the costume didn’t give it away?” I asked.
“Hey,” the producer said defensively, “we’ve had capes coming in and out of this place for a week! Plus, half my techs showed up in costume today, like it’s Halloween or something.”
Glancing around, I noticed that he was right; several of the people in the room were dressed as superheroes.
“I didn’t mean to interrupt,” I said. “I was just trying to get my hands on a schedule of events.”
The man grunted in annoyance and then reached for a stack of papers sitting on a desk near him. He flipped through them, then pulled loose a sheet that had info typed on both sides and held it out in my direction.
“Here, take it,” he said. “We’ve got a million of them floating around here.”
“Thanks,” I said, as I stepped towards him and took the sheet.
“Hmmm,” the producer muttered, giving me an intense look as I was about to turn and leave. “I know I’ve seen your costume before but I just can’t place it. Who are you again?”
“Kid Sensation,” said a voice behind me before I could even answer the question.
The monitors were still the only source of sound in the room, but at the mention of my nom de guerre, the entire vibe in the place changed tremendously and immediately. There were a few sharp intakes of breath and a number of bug-eyed stares (including the producer) as almost everyone in the room suddenly devolved into a jittery bundle of nerves, like they were afraid I was going to set off a bomb.
I ignored them as I turned to see who had spoken. Standing in the doorway with a smile on her face was world-famous talk show host Sylvia Gossett.
“Holy smoke,” Sylvia murmured. “It really is you.”
“Hey, Sylvia,” I said. “How’ve you been?”
Looking svelte and captivating, she ignored my question and instead stepped forward and gave me a fierce but unexpected hug. Fortunately, I recovered from my surprise quickly enough to hug her back.
Sylvia had been a low-level TV news reporter when we had first met at the Super Teen Trials two years earlier. While all of the newsmen with name recognition had been focused on popular super teens like Paramount, I had talked Sylvia into interviewing me, an unknown (and therefore presumably unremarkable) participant in the trials.
Following my on-air fight (and subsequent disappearance), however, that footage proved to be the mother lode for Sylvia, and she mined it for all it was worth. As the only person to have interviewed Kid Sensation (as I later came to be called), she catapulted to fame and now had her own nationally syndicated talk show, her own production company, and more. Not bad for someone still under thirty.
After a few seconds, Sylvia stepped back from hugging me and looked me over.
“You’ve barely changed,” she said. “Where have you been all this time?”
“On sabbatical,” I answered. “Anything interesting happen while I was gone?”
She laughed at that, then took my arm in hers. “Come on. Let’s go someplace where we can talk.”
Chapter 13
We ended up going to Sylvia’s dressing room, which was a small suite populated by, among other things, a luxurious couch, a couple of easy chairs, and a dresser with a lighted mirror. Sylvia’s assistant and a makeup artist were actually waiting inside when we arrived, but she chased them out so we could speak privately. She plopped down on the couch, kicking off her shoes, while I sat down in one of the chairs facing her.
“I hope you aren’t upset,” she said.
“About what?” I asked.
“The producer. He didn’t know who you were.”
“Should that be a problem?”
“It is for some capes. They like being recognized, and feel insulted when they’re not. Trust me, I’ve interviewed enough of them to know.”
“Not me. I couldn’t care less, although it did seem a little odd since almost everybody on the planet has seen my Fight Club audition.”
She laughed. “You have to remember, the attention span of the average person is only about ten seconds. Your fight was like two years ago.”
“So you’re saying everyone’s forgotten about me?”
“Not exactly, but think about it. There’s a world-famous photo of some guys eating lunch atop a New York skyscraper with a whole cityscape below them. You know it?”
“I’ve seen it,” I said.
“Assuming they still looked the same, do you think you’d recognize any of those guys if you saw them on the street?”
“Unlikely,” I said with a frown.
“That’s my point. Seeing them outside that photo removes their familiarity, even though most people have seen the picture before. Likewise, people will probably have a hard time placing you outside the context of that film clip.”
“So basically, you’re saying that I’m still in the public consciousness, just not in the public eye.”
“That’s an apt way to put it.”
“And people aren’t likely to recognize me – even in costume – unless I put myself in the proper context by getting into a fight.”
“Maybe not even then,” she said. “At the height of his popularity, comedic actor Charlie Chaplin purportedly entered a ‘Charlie Chaplin Look-a-Like Contest’ and didn’t even place.”
“Wow. That’s got to be rough.”
“Yeah. Just keep all this in mind if there’s not a mad stampede to get your autograph today.”
“I’ll do that.”
“Anyway,” she said, changing the subject, “what have you been up to?”
I frowned a little, unsure of how to answer. Anyone listening in would have thought that we were old friends simply catching up, but the truth of the matter was that Sylvia and I didn’t know each other at all. In fact, despite the extreme familiarity Sylvia had shown in hugging me, the entire time we’d previously spent in each other’s company probably amounted to about ten minutes, max – including a roughly five-minute interview. Based on that, I’m not sure we could even call ourselves acquaintances. Thus, I felt obliged to give a somewhat impersonal response.
“Just the usual high school stuff,” I said after a few seconds. “Homework, hanging out, etc.”
“Ah, yes. I remember those days.”
“The good old days?” I asked.
“Hey!” she exclaimed in mock indignation. “I’m not that old!”
“Really? There’s an internet rumor that you’re really in your eighties, but you’ve been keeping a lot of plastic surgeons busy by going under the knife regularly.”
“Funny,” she said sarcastically. “You should take that act on the road.”
“Speaking of being on the road,” I said, speaking sincerely, “it was nice of you to come here and host the exhibition. I was actually surprised when I heard that you were going to be the emcee. Normally they get some washed-up, B-list actor to be the front man, not someone of your stature.”
“Actually, I volunteered.”
I raised an eyebrow at that. “Really? Why?”
“Because of you! Once they told me Kid Sensation was going to be part of the show – the main event, in fact – it was a done deal for me.”
I was a little perplexed (and it must have shown in my face), but she went on.
“I never got a chance to thank you before,” she said.
“For what?”
“That interview you gave me. After your fight with the Alpha League, the whole world wanted to know about you, and I was the only one with any info. The networks played that clip so much that I became a ho
usehold name. Next thing you know, I’m part of a national morning news show, then six months later I’m being courted to helm my own talk show. Flash forward another year, and I’m a media superstar – all in less than two years.”
One would think that all of this was good news, but she spoke about it almost with sadness, and I could feel melancholy emanating from her.
“All that sounds great,” I said. “But you talk about it like it’s a problem.”
She sighed, looking forlorn. “Part of the reason that the bigwigs at the media conglomerate I worked for started moving me up was because they thought I had some kind of nose for news after that interview – like I somehow sniffed you out, knew that you were special, and got you to talk to me. The truth, though, is the exact opposite; it was you who had to convince me to do the interview.”
“No big deal,” I said, shrugging. “Doesn’t matter who convinced who. Six in one hand, half a dozen in the other. The main thing is that the interview happened and you experienced positive gains from it.”
“Except I feel like a fraud. Everything I have in my life – all the success, all the adoration, all the fans – comes from that one moment, and I’ve been taking credit for it like it was something I did or set in motion. The truth of the matter is that I almost didn’t do the interview.”
“I know,” I said, nodding, remembering how she had debated on whether to accept my offer to be interviewed.
“Long story short, I feel like my life since that moment has been one big lie, and I knew I’d never feel right about it until I talked to you, let you know how I feel. Thanked you.”
“There’s no need,” I said. “You got where you are because you deserved it, and if it hadn’t been the interview with me, it would have been something else.”
She smiled. “That’s nice of you to say, but I think we both know the truth. You’re the reason I’m here, and I just wanted to express my gratitude.”
“As I said, no thanks necessary.”
“Well, be that as it may, you now have a friend for life. If there’s anything I can ever do for you – any way I can ever help you – just let me know.”
I simply nodded, acknowledging her offer.
Chapter 14
Sylvia and I chatted amiably for about another fifteen minutes, with me picking her brains about the various events on the schedule and their locations. Surprisingly, the more I heard, the more excited I actually became about everything that was going to take place. (There are few things that are quite as fun as watching supers put their powers on display – even powers that you yourself possess.) However, I pointedly avoided asking her or letting her tell me anything with respect to the competition that was scheduled to take place between me and Dynamo.
By the time I left, Sylvia’s assistant, makeup artist, and a few other people were all dying to get into the room and had been banging on her door almost non-stop. Sylvia actually had a little time before she had to be in front of the cameras, but some of the events – which would be helmed by other reporters in the field – would actually be getting underway very soon. In fact, most of the exhibition broadcast was going to be prerecorded, with only a few events (like my own) actually being broadcast live.
I looked at the schedule I’d been given (which also included the names of many of the participants), trying to figure out which activities would be the most interesting. There were speed contests, strength competitions, and more – basically the super teen equivalent of a track meet. A number of them were slated to begin at the same time but at different sites – not really a problem for a teleporter, but I didn’t like the idea of popping up all over the place like some hyperactive kid with too much sugar in his diet. Thus, I was trying to come up with my own itinerary regarding which events to attend. In the end, as suggested by Electra, I felt it was important to be supportive of my colleagues and made my decisions primarily based on which activities included teens from the Alpha League.
All in all, there were about five events that I felt I should attend. Not all of them were occurring at places I’d been to before (ergo, I couldn’t teleport directly there), but I could get close enough and then zip over at super speed with no problem.
With that in mind, I teleported to the bottom of a mountainous area located in a state park about ten miles outside the city limits. This was to be the venue for a race between speedsters. The participants were to run along a scenic but twisting, curving hillside road all the way through the mountains – making certain to hit specific checkpoints along the way – and then back again. First one across the finish line, of course, would be the winner.
When I popped up, I got a bit of a surprise: there were hundreds of people present – most of them teens, and quite a few in superhero costumes. Several were even dressed as Kid Sensation, which shocked me until I remembered that a number of savvy clothing manufacturers had pounced on the popularity of my fight clip and profited enormously by marketing copies of my costume and likeness. I sighed; everything always seemed to come back to that stupid, on-air brawl.
There was a bright side, however. With so many other people in costume and several clones of me walking around, the real Kid Sensation didn’t stand out. The companies that made the costumes had done an excellent job in terms of duplicating my outfit – especially when they didn’t have the original to work with – and for the umpteenth time it occurred to me that I should be receiving royalties.
While the crowd of onlookers I found myself in seemed to be a shapeless mass, there actually was some level of order to its randomness. The spectators were formed up on both sides and the rear of the starting line, creating a huge U around those competing in the race. Many of those present, especially the teens, seemed to be rabid fans of one speedster or another, and they screamed the names of their favorites so loudly that I knew they’d be hoarse the next day. They also held up homemade posters and signs as encouragement for their personal picks.
There were about twenty supers competing in the race. Looking out over the runners, I saw Pronto, a fifteen-year-old speedster from the Alpha League teens. He looked nervous as he stepped to the starting line along with his fellow competitors, and maybe he was right to be. Although he had good speed, I had the distinct feeling that he was a bit out of his depth here. Unfortunately, I was proven right when the race started just a few moments later.
Immediately after the starting gun fired, the runners streaked away at speeds almost too fast for the human eye to follow. Wind from their passage buffeted the crowd, kicking up dust and blowing away several posters (much to the dismay of the fans who had made them). I shifted into super speed, and the world went into slow motion all around me – except those participating in the race, who now appeared to be running at something akin to normal speed from my perspective. I then telescoped my vision in an attempt to keep the runners in view.
The race itself was structured somewhat differently than what one would normally expect. Although the runners had begun their trek in the area where the crowd was assembled, the actual start/finish line was about a mile up the road. Once they reached that juncture, the race would begin in earnest and they could run flat-out at full speed.
The reason for this odd setup was simple: some, if not all, of the runners were capable of exceeding Mach speed. Letting them start off at that pace in close proximity to the spectators would have been a very poor decision. The sound of a score of sonic booms sounding almost simultaneously would have certainly been startling – if not outright terrifying; somebody probably would have had a heart attack. Thus, the runners were initially limited to subsonic speed.
From what I could see, a flag marked the spot where the runners could go supersonic. As they reached that point, they really stepped on the gas, and the air filled with a number of sharp cracks as speedsters began breaking the sound barrier.
As I mentioned, the road that the racers were on had lots of twists and turns through the mountains, and – even with my vision enhanced – I soon lost s
ight of the runners. Fortunately, each of the speedsters was wearing a tracker, and as they passed various checkpoints their names appeared in the appropriate spot on a giant leaderboard located near the assembled fans.
The race itself covered a distance of approximately one hundred miles – fifty through the mountains and fifty back to the finish line. Sounds like a lot, unless you have an idea of exactly how fast some speedsters can run.
The winner of the race ended up being a guy known as Sol, which apparently stood for “speed of light.” He was with a British team of supers known as the Golden Circle, and he finished the race – to much cheering and applause – in just under three minutes. He wasn’t even breathing hard when he crossed the finish line.
Pronto finished in ninth place, and looked crestfallen at what he obviously felt was a subpar performance. While the winner was being presented with a trophy and asked for comments, I made my way over to where Pronto was standing, surrounded by several other Alpha League teens who were apparently trying to cheer him up by praising his performance.
“Hey, Pronto,” I said, getting his attention. “Good race.”
He looked at me like he didn’t know who I was. “Uh…thanks.”
“Don’t get too wrapped up in this,” I continued. “Remember, you’re just fifteen. You’re going to get faster.”
“Yeah…uh…yeah,” he replied, brow furrowing like he was trying to think of something to say. “Uh…Jim?”
“Yeah?”
Relief seemed to wash over him. “Okay, so it is you.”
Now I was the one looking confused. “Of course it’s me! Who else–”
And then I remembered: I had shapeshifted, and didn’t look like the Jim he knew. I glanced around to make sure no one else was watching (other than our Alpha League colleagues, that is), and then changed my visage so that he could see my real face for a second, then shifted back to my Kid Sensation persona.
The Kid Sensation Series Box Set Page 47
