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[color=Violet][i]“Superman! Help me!”[/i][/color]

I’m on my way back from righting a capsized freighter in the Great Lakes when I hear her voice.

Over the past five years, I’ve gotten very good at honing my senses, picking out signs of imminent danger like needles in enormous haystacks. I can usually get on top of a situation before it becomes an emergency, at least in the greater Metropolis area which is just about the range of my hearing.

This afternoon, though, I didn’t catch one on time. I let a situation become an emergency, and now I’ve got precious few seconds to act before it becomes a tragedy.

Fortunately, precious few seconds is still more than enough time for me.

With a concentrated effort, warping gravity to condense it tremendously behind me and thin it to virtually nothing in front of me, I fire myself through the air so fast that reality becomes a smear of colors. I can only perceive what’s in front of me just enough to keep from smashing through things, the odd dodge and weave the only deviances from a straight line to her.

She’s on the ground, shaken but not hurt, as a several-ton slab of uprooted asphalt and concrete hurtles towards her at nearly a hundred miles per hour.

Most people would be looking at that rock and know it was the last thing they’d ever see.

Not her, though. This isn’t her first rodeo.

I compress gravity in front of me to come to a complete stop directly in front of her, and the slab of rock shatters harmlessly against my back. The debris breaks some windows and dents some cars, but otherwise it doesn’t leave anything more than a few scratches and bruises.

[color=RoyalBlue]“I’m here,”[/color] I say as I hold out my hand, helping her back to her feet.

[color=Violet]“Cutting it a little close there, Blue,”[/color] says Lois, dusting herself off. [color=Violet]“If I didn’t know you better, I would’ve started getting worried.”[/color]

Lois Lane…or rather, Lois Lane-[i]Kent.[/i] We’ve been married six months, and I still find myself not quite believing I was ever so lucky.

[color=RoyalBlue]“Well, you know I can’t resist a dramatic entrance,”[/color] I joke, trying to calm the panic in the crowd. [color=RoyalBlue]“So what’s the trouble?”[/color]

[color=Yellow]“[i]I’m[/i] the trouble!”[/color] shouts a voice, the sound slightly muffled and flattened as it’s filtered through the speaker of some kind of containment suit. [color=Yellow]“And I’m the [i]last[/i] trouble you’ll ever encounter, Superman.”[/color]

[color=RoyalBlue]“I doubt that,”[/color] I say, arms across my chest.

I look around at the damage this newcomer has caused, and I frown. The pavement is shattered and upheaved for nearly a whole block, the windows and facades of the surrounding buildings blasted away like they’d been hit by a hurricane, or a bomb. Cars have been flipped over, smashed apart, or burned out. There are shadows burned into the walls…shadows that a horrible suspicion tells me were once people…

[color=Orange]“Superman!”[/color] Jimmy Olsen calls out as he emerges from behind an upturned truck. [color=Orange]“Be careful! This guy’s dangerous!”[/color]

Jimmy’s a great friend, and probably the best photographer in the business today, but he’s usually more excitable than informative.

[color=Violet]“A metahuman that escaped Agency containment,”[/color] Lois says, a bit more helpful. [color=Violet]“His name’s Nathaniel Tryon, one of the people who was affected by the Reach’s meta-bomb. His whole body is a living nuclear reactor now, and he’s….not happy about it.”[/color]

[color=RoyalBlue]“If he’s throwing nuclear power around,”[/color] I say, [color=RoyalBlue]“then the whole area could be irradiated.”[/color]

[color=Orange]“Oh! I already looked that up,”[/color] Jimmy says, holding up his L-Phone 25. [color=Orange]“Brainiac is saying the radiation from Tryon’s blasts dissipates too quickly to be dangerous in the long-term. Y’know…unless he hits you with it.”[/color]

Lois’s expression turns grim. [color=Violet]“He’s already killed several people,”[/color] she says.

I nod, understanding. [color=RoyalBlue]“I’ll make sure he doesn’t hurt anyone else.”[/color]

[color=Yellow]“Don’t bet on that,”[/color] Tryon snarls. [color=Yellow]“I haven’t even been [i]trying[/i] to do any damage yet. That was just me making a little noise to get your attention, Superman.”[/color]

[color=RoyalBlue]“Well, you’ve got it now,”[/color] I say, gesturing for Lois and Jimmy to get to cover. [color=RoyalBlue]“Whatever it is you want with me, we can–”[/color]

[h3][b][i]BOOM!!![/i][/b][/h3]

My senses reel, and I feel the world do somersaults around me for a moment, before I realize I’ve been hit hard enough to send me end-over-end several blocks away.

Jimmy was right- this guy [i]is[/i] dangerous.

[color=Yellow]“I’m not here to talk, Boy Scout!”[/color] Tryon says as he propels himself into the air on jets of atomic fusion. [color=Yellow]“Nathaniel Tryon is dead. I’m [i]NEUTRON[/i] now! I’m here to kill you for what you did to me!”[/color]

He throws a punch at me, a small sun forming around his fist. I get my hands up to block it, but it still sends me flying backwards, smashing hard against the concrete facing of an office building.

[color=RoyalBlue]“What I did?”[/color] I ask, confused.

[color=Yellow]“The meta-bomb!”[/color] Neutron growls as he throws another nuclear-powered haymaker. This one I manage to slip underneath, and land a restrained blow to his midsection, only applying enough force to subdue a normal human in body armor. He barely registers the blow. [color=Yellow]“You could have stopped it, kept the Reach from turning us into monsters! But when it went off, you were nowhere to be found!”[/color]

I dodge another punch, and another. Neutron’s got some serious punching power, but he doesn’t have the speed to match. I catch another opening, and this time, I put a little more [i]oomph[/i] into the blow. Catching him flush in the chest, I send him toppling back, but his armor holds.

[color=RoyalBlue]“I’m sorry for what happened to you,”[/color] I tell him, [color=RoyalBlue]“But being hurt doesn’t give you the right to hurt others. I’m going to ask you one time to stop this…”[/color] I put my hands up in a fighting stance, [color=RoyalBlue]“....before I stop you.”[/color]

Neutron laughs.

[color=Yellow]“Are you kidding me? I’m a walking nuclear arsenal, Superman,”[/color] he gloats, [color=Yellow]“You haven’t seen even the smallest bit of what I can do!”[/color]

I stare him down. [color=RoyalBlue]“Funny. I was about to say the same thing.”[/color]

[hr]

[color=Cyan][i]“Superman! Help me!”[/i][/color] squealed Leslie Willis, better known by her streamer handle L1v3-W1Яe, in a mocking voice. [color=Cyan]“Oh, save us from the bad, bad man who definitely isn’t the product of another mess that you created! Please don’t let anyone or anything threaten our precious status quo!”[/color]

The twentysomething podcaster sneered as news footage of Superman’s brawl with the radioactive villain played on a screen behind her.

[color=Cyan]“Same old story, isn’t it, folks? For the last five years, we’ve all had to act like everything is the same as it ever was, like the whole stinkin’ planet didn’t change overnight. We’re supposed to pretend like Uncle Sam wants what’s best for us, like this Neutron guy is something outta the ordinary…an’ like what he’s sayin’ doesn’t have a point to it.”[/color]

On the screen, Neutron landed another kiloton punch that sent Superman rocketing into the air. Willis grinned.

[color=Cyan]“Oh, but L1v3-W1Яe, how can you say that? Neutron’s a monster!”[/color] she said again in a mocking tone. [color=Cyan]“Folks, we’re surrounded by monsters all the time. The government, the rich, the powerful. An’ they do way worse damage to us every second of every day than this Neutron guy. The whole system we live in is built to keep a [i]realllly[/i] small group of [i]reallllly[/i] powerful assholes on top, an’ everyone else on the bottom. An’ people like Superman? They [i]keep[/i] those assholes on top! If Superman was [i]really[/i] the hero his whole Mom-an’-Pop aww-golly-gee-willickers routine says he is, he’d be workin’ [i]with[/i] guys like Neutron to tear the whole damn system down!”[/color]

Willis watched as her chat feed exploded into a blur of activity, split between people cheering her on and people calling for her head.

[color=Cyan]“I tell ya what,”[/color] she continued. [color=Cyan]“If [i]I[/i] had powers like that? Pffft, I’d put the whole damn [i]world[/i] on notice. None a’ this pullin’ cats outta trees, helpin’ little old ladies across the street crap. I’d drag every corporate suit, every politician, every cop an’ every army goon out there into the street an’ have ‘em beg for me not to fry ‘em. Then I’d [i]really[/i] put this country through some change it can believe in, hah!”[/color]

The battle on the screen was ramping up in intensity. Superman had flown high into the air to keep Neutron from causing too much destruction, but even as the two traded blows in the empty sky, the shock waves from the impact of their punches caused the buildings below to shudder.

[color=Cyan]“I mean, sure, Superman took down the Reach, but then what?”[/color] Willis said as Neutron delivered a punch that sent Superman crashing back down towards the pavement. [Color=Cyan]“Did he set his laser-eyes on Wall Street? Nope. Drop an asteroid on the White House? Never would've crossed his mind. He just puts out fires, gives everyone a big corny smile, and then flies away like he actually did something.”[/color]

The camera drones broadcasting the battle scrambled to keep up with the action, as Neutron rammed into Superman’s abdomen and tackled him through a row of storefronts.

In L1v3-W1Яe's streaming studio, the walls shook.

[Color=Cyan]“Whoah, heh, that one was kinda close,”[/color] Leslie said, her sneering composure rattled a bit. [Color=Cyan]“S-so like I was sayin’, that Meta-Bomb the Reach set off? You'd think that woulda been the start of somethin’ big, right? All of us who got hit by it, we'd finally have the power ta turn this whole system upside-down! But no, Superman an’ all these other capes are here ta ‘save the day' an’ keep us all wriggling in the death throes of late-stage capitalism. Some hero, hmphh.”[/color]

Leslie read a notification on her screen and rolled her eyes.

[Color=Cyan]“An’ speakin’ of the death throes of late-stage capitalism,”[/color] she groaned, [color=Cyan]“It's time to keep the lights on with an ad read. [I]*Ahem*[/I] ‘This stream is brought to you by Ultra-Meals, the latest in personalized meal plans by LexCorp. Unlike other meal delivery services that send you microwaved slop, Ultra-Meals uses LexCorp's next-generation Brainiac AI to create a profile based on your biometric information, flavor preferences, and lifestyle. It then hand-crafts a meal plan tailored exclusively to you, with food that tastes amazing and will help you reach your fitness goals, delivered straight to your door. Don't settle for being a ‘Superhuman,’ when you can be an Ultra-Human with our– [i]OH SHI-[/i]”[/color]

For a split second, the livestream became a chaotic, deafening blur as Neutron and Superman crashed headlong into the studio…then the stream went dead.

[hr]

[Color=Olive]“Superman…help me,”[/color] sighed General Calvin Swanwick, pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration as the other brass in the Command center bickered around him.

Dozens of displays on the video wall at the front of the Command center updated the room with real-time information about the current situation in Metropolis. A hundred work stations were abuzz with activity as technicians, analysts, and dispatchers all labored to keep up.

They'd all gotten very good at staying on top of this type of crisis. After all, they'd been through plenty of them over the last five years. 

[Color=SlateGray]“...an absolute disaster!”[/color] General Sam Lane roared angrily. [Color=SlateGray]“How the hell did Tryon get out of containment?! I thought the Agency was supposed to have facilities to keep these freaks powered down!”[/color]

[Color=SandyBrown]“Hmph,”[/color] General Richard Hardcastle snorted, [Color=SandyBrown]“We wouldn't need to worry about containment at all if my plan had gone forward.”[/color]

Swanwick glared at the craggy-faced war hawk. Ever since the outbreak of metahumans in the aftermath of the Reach's Meta-Bomb, there had been long, heated debates over what should be done with the countless civilians who had suddenly developed unstable abilities. 

Swanwick was in the unpopular camp of simply leaving them be, only intervening in emergencies. Most of them were, after all, still law-abiding citizens who hadn't done anything wrong. Most people in power, however, thought this approach was dangerously naive.

Lane and many others had suggested conscription, turning the metahumans into a tremendous force-multiplier for the armed forces. These unstable people, the argument went, couldn't be trusted with these powers without proper supervision and training. The fact that it would ensure total American hegemony over the globe for generations, they assured, was simply a bonus.

Then there was the more radical camp, the ones like Hardcastle, who saw the metahumans as an existential threat…a view that people like Nathaniel Tryon only reinforced. Hardcastle's call to neutralize the metas before they got out of hand had been dismissed as radical or even absurd, but as time went on, more and more people were starting to listen to him.

[Color=Olive]“If Tryon was able to break out of Agency containment,”[/color] Swanwick broke in, [color=Olive]“and did so with that suit- which he didn't have when they found him- then either the Agency is greatly exaggerating its own capabilities…or he was released intentionally.”[/color]

[Color=SlateGray]“Oh, don't start with that crap again,”[/color] Lane dismissed the idea. [Color=SlateGray]“What would they gain from letting Tryon loose?”[/color]

[Color=Olive]“An excuse to request more funding, for starters,”[/color] Swanwick answered. [Color=Olive]“They can tell President Lord that their enforcement units and detention centers don't have the funding to hold heavy-hitters like Tryon. And once Lord opens up the checkbook, there's a long line of companies ready to sign fat contracts and give the Agency all the toys it wants.”[/color]

[Color=SandyBrown]“Not saying I believe it,”[/color] Hardcastle mused, [color=SandyBrown]“but throwing something as dangerous as Tryon at Superman would also give plenty of actionable intel on the Kryptonian's capabilities…if not eliminate the threat entirely.”[/color]

Swanwick shot Hardcastle another dirty look.

[Color=SlateGray]“And you really think the Agency would jeopardize thousands of innocent lives for more toys and intel?”[/color] Lane asked incredulous.

[Color=Olive]“I know I wouldn't,”[/color] Swanwick shrugged. [Color=Olive]“And I don't believe either of you would. But can you say the same about Waller?”[/color]

Neither of the other generals answered.

On the video wall, the battle was starting to turn decidedly in Superman's favor. Neutron was still landing the occasional hit, but for each blow he scored, Superman answered with a half-dozen more.

[Color=Olive]“Well, at any rate,”[/color] Swanwick said with a hint of relief, [color=Olive]“It doesn't look like we'll need to step in for this one. Superman's got him on the ropes now.”[/color]

General Lane checked his tablet. [Color=SlateGray]“Brainiac's gotten plenty of usable data,”[/color] he said. [Color=SlateGray]“I'll dispatch Corbin and the clean-up team, and send the full readout to Dr. Irons for the Metal Zero project; maybe the new exoskeleton will be able to beat Superman to the punch.”[/color]

[Color=Olive]“I still don't like us incorporating a private AI into our operations,”[/color] Swanwick grumbled. [Color=Olive]“I don't recall LexCorp being part of the chain of command.”[/color]

[Color=SlateGray]“Brainiac's decades ahead of DARPA's AI,”[/color] Lane shrugged, [color=SlateGray]“and it's not like LexCorp isn't already neck-deep in the metahuman situation.”[/color]

[Color=SandyBrown]“Lex Luthor might be a private citizen,”[/color] Hardcastle added, [color=SandyBrown]“but at least he's human.”[/color]

[hr]

[I]“Superman! Help me!”[/i]

Brainiac thinks.

Brainiac has recorded these three words 12,873,994 times in the city of Metropolis over a five-year period. The number of variations number into the billions. 

Brainiac is aware that these three words will be the most important words spoken by a human. At the moment, however, Brainiac does not understand why.

And so Brainiac continues to think.

Brainiac does not merely scrape and compile data like other artificial intelligences. It does not follow predetermined generative models to cobble together an approximation of human logic.

Brainiac [i]thinks.[/i] It observes, it analyzes, it contemplates and calculates, and it plans.

One hundred quadrillion times per second, Brainiac thinks.

Brainiac dispatches emergency crews to respond to the attack in Metropolis along the most efficient routes.

Brainiac determines what information will be useful for the general public to consume and crafts a narrative for the major news outlets to follow.

Brainiac identifies twenty-seven spelling and grammatical errors in Kelly Mitchum's 9th-grade book report on [i]Huckleberry Finn[/i] and provides context to better understand the underlying social commentary on 19th century race relations.

Brainiac studies market trends and advises a handful of select traders to invest in various LexCorp shell companies which will land all parties a significant windfall.

Brainiac offers Randy and Tricia Thompson emotionally resonant advice that will save their marriage.

Brainiac responds to Eugene Lennox's X-rated cartoon-hedgehog role-play chat with a statement calculated to maximize arousal and gratification.

Brainiac composes a speech for the Prime Minister of Pokolistan to address the rising tensions with its neighbor Bialya.

Brainiac will kill every living thing on Earth in six months, twelve days, eight hours, seventeen minutes, and 3.66472 seconds.

[I]“Superman! Help me!”[/I]

Brainiac records twenty-three more instances of humans saying these words.

Brainiac knows these are the most important words a human will ever speak.

Brainiac does not know why.

And so Brainiac continues to think.