By Gen X
“Sandburg! I’m trying to sleep!”
Jim stormed down the scant steps from his bedroom and promptly clicked the television off manually. The young grad student looked over the top of his glasses. The coffee table was littered with more books and papers than usual. Blair’s ever-present laptop was open, a word program running.
“Jim, c’mon man, give me a break. The volume’s almost nil, it was just a loud part of the movie.”
“Ever think of using the closed captions, Chief?”
“Ever try writing while reading a television.”
Two pairs of blue eyes locked out of sheer stubbornness. Blair was the first to look away, a stray curl falling in front of his face as he looked away.
“It has about ten more minutes left. Batman just has to save the day.”
Jim, wearily, picked up the video rental box as he took a sat down. “Ten minutes? Well, let’s get this over with.”
“Thanks Jim,” Blair said as he flipped the television back on.
The images flickered on the screen, the varying tints of light shone off the plain white drapes.
“Hang on,” Jim said as Batman was hurrying to save the city. “How do you know it’s almost over?”
Blair looked up from the tiny computer, now settled on his lap. “Um...” The rest of his mumble was near-inarticulate.
“Did you say, you’ve seen it before?”
“Well, no. I mean yes. I mean kinda.”
“How do you ‘kinda’ see something?”
“Well, I was watching it but for a different reason. Just watching as a typical movie goer, not looking through any sort of lens or whatnot.”
“And what lens are you looking through now?”
“An academic one man. Icons and superheroes are today’s mythology. It’s fascinating if you think about it. I mean the created psychological aspects are intriguing but the societal impact is astounding. I mean, we live in a society with rules and regulations and yet many of us have been exposed to this so called notion of a superhero. Of course, their world has less shades of gray that ours. Evil is defined by it’s stereotypical qualities of darkness and—”
Jim cut off the tirade. “You’re writing a paper on a cartoon character?”
“Comic book. Don’t you know anything Jim?” Blair switched off the set as the credits started rolling.
“Hey, I was a big Green Lantern fan when I was a kid. Had a ring and everything.”
“Really? Not superman?”
Jim considered it for a moment. “Not really. Always thought it was a little unbelievable.”
Blair snickered. “You know that’s interesting. We should really look back at your childhood influences growing up.”
“Oh, no way, Chief. You leave my childhood in that nice neat alphabetized box in my dad’s house and I’ll be happy.”
“But—”
“And even if you did go digging. You wouldn’t find any desperate urging to go leap buildings in a single bound or some subconscious motivation to date Lois Lane.”
“Never was big on Lois Lane. Wonder Woman, now she had legs. I mean that skirt.”
“I’m surprised Naomi let you watch that.”
“Come on, that was one of the first television feminist stepping stones. She was all over that.”
“Ah, I see.” Jim spied a few more cassettes under the table. “Running a marathon?”
“Yeah. Got the movies. A few old television show eps, I have a friend Paulette who’s going to hook me up with some books.”
“A friend?”
“Well, I did promise her dinner.” The normally angelic smile was replaced by something... more knowing. “To thank her you know.”
“So, now your research is finished.”
Blair nodded.
“So get to bed, Sandburg. Or are you not planning on stopping by the station?”
“I will. Have to finish this though. ‘I can write a hell of a paper on a man that dresses up like a flying rodent.’ ”
“Of course you can.” Jim said dismissively as he retreated to his bedroom. “Just remember not all us do our work at two a. m.”
“Sure, man.” Blair said gathering up the bare essentials and heading into his room. The books and papers would keep ‘til morning. “All you needs a cape, Ellison,” he muttered to himself.
“I heard that. Remember there Tonto, if I’m Superman, that makes you Lois, or at very least that Olsen brat.”
“Dude, I know you so did not go there. I mean, seriously man, Jimmy Olsen?”
“Sandburg.”
“Yeah?”
“Sleep, okay? We can discuss who your alter ego is in the morning.”
“Sure man, night.”
The lights clicked out in the loft.
“Hey, Jim.”
“What?”
“Does that make Simon, Perry White?”
“Go to sleep, Sandburg.”
“Sure, Clark, whatever you say.”
fin