inalienable rights CHAPTER TEN
Still fuming over having her attempt at undercover surveillance so easily thwarted, Lois approached the bus station she'd supposedly been wandering around less than twelve hours before. She didn't know what she expected to find there, if anything, but Clark's story had more holes than the Twinkie defense and wasn't nearly as sweet. She'd been there countless times, passed it almost every day, so she tried to push away its familiarity to uncover whatever clue may be eluding her.
Lois knew she looked confused, which she hated, so she struck a defiant pose with her chin out and strode across the street to the station with purpose. There was a taxi to her right, the driver standing by the door with a cigarette while waiting for his next fare. Such vignettes were virtually invisible in the tapestry of Metropolis - just part of the steadily buzzing backdrop. Lois might not have even noticed the cabbie, had he not visibly panicked when her foot hit the sidewalk, cursing and stomping out his cigarette as he fumbled with the door handle.
Lois didn't recognize him, but he clearly remembered her - and apparently not with fondness. "Hey!" Lois called, quickening her pace to reach him before he put the car in gear. "Hey, what are you doing?" She leaned into the open driver's-side window and gripped the door.
"Lady, I don't want any more trouble!" The driver was agitated and evidently wanted nothing to do with Lois.
"What makes you think I'd give you any trouble?" Lois laid on the fake charm, spreading it evenly with a sugary smile.
"Lady, I get the feeling you're nothing but trouble. You see my front fender? That's what happens when chrome meets concrete!"
Lois nodded, mystified but playing along. "Well, that's what happens when driver meets Jack Daniels."
The cabbie's face purpled with rage. "Look lady, I don't ever want to see you near my cab again! You cost me money and paperwork, the way you carried on last night. I'm sorry I accidentally flicked ashes at you, but you didn't have to hit me. I lost control of the wheel, and it's all your fault!"
Lois' eyes narrowed. Last night! Wait - he flicked ashes at me? And he only has a dented fender? "How does a person accidentally flick cigarette ashes at someone in the backseat?"
"Don't try to pull anything cute with me, lady. You were in the front and you know it. Your giant, piece of junk suitcase took up the whole back."
Lois nodded, beginning to piece the puzzle together. "So of course, there was nobody else in the back seat. When did I get in your cab? Around 9:20? Did you bring me home?"
The cab driver stared at Lois, dumbfounded. "Yeah, sure, dropped you across the street from your place, remember? Look, I'd lighten up on the Irish coffee before lunchtime, if I were you. "You're some kind'a crazy." He shook his head, put the car in gear and drove off.
Lois stared after the retreating car. I got into a cab, alone, went straight home, and - what? Wound up back at the bus station at eleven o'clock? Why? To indulge Smallville-boy's hero complex?
"This is ridiculous, I have a hundred other tests to perform, other samples to take - I don't understand why we can't wait to do this until we've had more time to properly prepare for it. We should proceed with the trials as originally planned. Clark is only here until tomorrow, an undertaking like this is too ambitious for only twenty-four hours' observation." Dr. Ripley was uncharacteristically passionate in his stance against the idea of beginning the "bridge-building" right away.
Dr. Swann looked exasperated. "I wasn't proposing that any actual therapies should begin today Ethan, but I do think it's reasonable to begin brain-mapping so we have something to reference as we develop the procedures."
Dr. Ripley stomped his foot in a fit of pre-adolescent defiance. "But if we take the time to do that now, I won't have a lot of the data I was hoping to be able to study over the next few months!"
Marin rolled her eyes. "Drink your PowerAde, Ethan. Let the grown-ups talk."
"I've had enough of your - "
Dr. Ripley was interrupted when Dr. Crosby cut in. "Okay, I'm not here to baby-sit! Ethan, we're just wasting more time by arguing about this, but as it happens I agree with you. The cerebral mapping alone is going to take considerable time, we can have Clark back in the next week or two to do that. In the mean time, we'll move forward with our original plan. Now, Ethan, what do you still need to do?"
Dr. Ripley, with an expression of vindication not unlike a child on the playground who made it to the top of the jungle gym first, opened a notebook and made a few checkmarks. "I still need to collect a few biological specimens - and there was another matter that Andrea and I had discussed."
Dr. Prescott's eyes widened and almost simultaneously narrowed into a maliciously vengeful glare aimed at Dr. Ripley. "I thought we had agreed not to push that… matter." She looked at him pointedly.
"No, Andrea, you agreed - I said I thought it merited a trial." Dr. Ripley shrugged smugly.
"You can't orchestrate a trial for that!" Dr. Prescott appeared to be horrified by whatever Dr. Ripley was insinuating.
"Of course we can, and I think we should - I think he'd want to know."
"What would I want to know?" Clark had been silent until now, waiting for the powers that be to decide which tests he'd submit to when. It made little difference to him, as long as it meant he could begin to forge his way into Kal-El's power, at least enough to break free from Jor-El's.
Dr. Ripley minced no words. "You're a virgin, right?"
Clark's jaw dropped, and he stood stunned for a moment until he found his voice - an octave higher than usual. "So, who's up for some brain-mapping?"
Dr. Prescott tried to intervene. "See, now look - this isn't necessary."
"Now wait a minute," Dr. Ripley pressed on. "Come on Clark, yes or no?"
Clark became progressively more uncomfortable. "Why does it matter?"
Dr. Ripley grinned eerily. "It matters a great deal, Clark. A very great deal. Considering that one of your powers was discovered purely because you were in a state of - "
"Okay, yeah," Clark interrupted. "That's true, but it has nothing to do with the heat vision anymore, I've focused it and I can do it whenever I want without thinking about… other things."
"Yes, of course," Dr Ripley nodded emphatically. "But it raises other questions."
"I don't see how."
"Really?" Dr. Ripley took on a patronizing tone. "There are no burning questions about your sexuality that you've never been able to answer?"
"Make your point, Ethan, or leave him alone." Dr. Crosby had little patience for some of Dr. Ripley's little games.
"When Andrea and I discussed it, she wondered about how various forms of stimulation - not just sexual - might trigger new powers, or even variations of existing ones. This brought us to consider whether or not he could safely - copulate, shall we say - with a human woman. Then there were more questions - could he impregnate her? Could she safely carry his child to term? How many of his abilities would this child inherit, if any? What kind of physical risks would be involved? Can a Kryptonian contract any STDs? Can a Kryptonian transmit them? Can he - "
"Can a Kryptonian be gay?" Marin interjected, and Dr. Ripley shot her a vicious look. "Oh, I'm sorry - you're just getting so worked-up and passionate about Clark, I figured that's where you were headed."
"Can we not talk about this, please?" Clark begged, his youth and innocence colliding with the fact that he had always asked himself many of these same questions.
"Yes, Ethan, I think you've scared him enough," Dr. Swann added. "But he does pose a worthy query, Clark."
Clark peeked timidly from under his lashes at the faces in the room, and drew a deep breath. He turned to Dr. Swann. "I don't want to talk about this with… everybody."
Dr. Swann began to steer his chair out of the diagnostics lab. "We'll talk in my office." Clark followed meekly, and inadvertently glanced up at Marin as he passed, catching a trace of intrigue burning in her eye, further betrayed by the deep flush on her cheeks. She turned away and shuffled a stack of blank paper.
"So, Clark, I'm guessing by your discomfort that Dr. Ripley - while perhaps misguided - was not entirely off the mark?"
Clark closed the office door behind him and took a seat opposite Dr. Swann, drawing his knees up and looking for all the world as lost as he felt. "Actually, he was pretty much on-target."
"So you have been wondering about these things."
"Of course I have," Clark mumbled. "I'm eighteen - or something like eighteen, as close as anyone can guess. How could I not wonder? Most guys do, only most guys don't have to worry about what might happen."
"What might happen to the girl, you mean?" Dr Swann had considerable difficulty suppressing a knowing smile.
"Well, yeah, mostly." Clark looked up at Dr. Swann's smirk and rolled his eyes. "Come on, it's not a 'delusions of grandeur' kind of thing, okay? I just - well, since I've never done it, I don't have any idea what could happen if I did - to me or to her. I mean, like Dr. Ripley said - what if it triggered something, like a variation of the heat vision? Or worse? Or… I don’t know, it's the fear of the unknown I guess."
"It's quite an unknown."
"Yeah." Clark hung his head.
"But do you want to know?"
Clark looked up sharply. "Well, I'd like to, but I don't see how."
"Well, there's the obvious way - "
"No," Clark said starkly before Dr. Swann finished. He shook his head and gazed unseeingly toward the ceiling. "All those questions - the way he asked them - 'can he,' and 'can a Kryptonian,' - I'm really just a lab rat to him, aren't I?" Clark sank deeper into the chair and settled his head against the wall, sighing defeatedly. "An alien lab rat. I'm not a human - maybe I shouldn't expect to live like one."
Dr. Swann pondered for a moment before speaking. "One of the most enduring fables of all time is the idea of a child being raised by wolves. Fed by them, guarded, kept warm and safe, taught to survive and hunt when the time comes. The child grows, and sees that it's different, but it knows nothing else. It lives as a wolf among the wolves, and they likewise see it as another wolf."
"But like you said, that's a fable," Clark protested. "It's impossible."
"As impossible as an alien being raised by humans? To be fed, guarded, taught to survive as a human? To be loved as a human?"
Clark sat up straight, and a tear - one of the few things he couldn't fight - slid from the corner of his eye. "But I'm not human."
"It's the sum of our experiences that make us who we are, Clark." Dr. Swann moved his chair closer. "And you've experienced humanity."
The entire group was waiting in the hub when Clark and Dr. Swann emerged from the office, hanging on the silence like a filled courtroom awaiting a jury's verdict.
"We are not going to address any of the concerns you raised, Dr. Ripley - " Dr. Swann began.
"I really must protest, Dr. Swann - I think - "
"It doesn't matter what you think, Ethan," Dr. Swann continued. "We are essentially at Clark's disposal, and everything we do here is for his benefit, not merely to satisfy our curiosity. Now, as I was saying before I was interrupted, we will not address any of the aforementioned concerns aside from the most fundamental, and only if Clark chooses to."
"The most fundamental?" Dr. Prescott asked.
"The question, as Ethan so delicately phrased it, of whether or not Clark can safely copulate with a human woman."
Clark looked surprised to hear this, and Dr. Prescott was dumbstruck. "You're not seriously considering allowing this, Dr. Swann!"
"It's not a question of whether I'll allow it, it's a question of whether it will benefit Clark, and I think it's better that we facilitate such a trial, rather than not."
Dr. Prescott scoffed and shook her head. "This sound like a 'buy the kids beer so at least I know where they're drinking it' mentality to me. I think it's reckless. And exactly who is he supposed to test with?"
"It doesn't matter," Clark spoke up. "I'm not doing it."
"There, see, he doesn't even want to!" Dr. Prescott cried with affirmation.
"Geez, Clark, do you have supermorality too?"
"That's it Ethan, I've had it - go analyze your data and don't show your snide little face out here until you have a real report for me." Dr. Crosby had finally maxed out her tolerance for Dr. Ripley.
"Don't talk to me like a kid, I have as much right to be here - "
"You've been acting like a kid, so you forfeit your right to participate in this discussion. Now go."
Dr. Ripley sullenly picked up his notebook and his PowerAde and left the room.
"It doesn't matter, Dr. Crosby, I can't do this."
"Nobody will make you do it, Clark." Dr. Prescott seemed to be the only one speaking against the idea. "Besides, we'd need a willing and informed test subject."
"I'll do it," Marin blurted suddenly, before her brain had fully realized what her body told it to say. Damn! What did I get myself into?
Clark's cheeks burned and he fixed his stare solidly to the floor. "No."
Marin attempted a light-hearted shrug. "Hey, it's in the interest of science, right?"
Clark shook his head and bit his lip. "No, I… no."
Marin looked at Dr. Crosby, then Dr. Prescott, and finally at Dr. Swann. Then they all looked at Clark.
After a long interval passed with nobody speaking, Clark assumed they were waiting for him to do something. He looked up defiantly. "I'm not a lab rat, you know." The telltale tear welled again in his eye. "I'm not a guinea pig. I'm not a human either, but I feel like one. I don't want to do this in the interest of science. I don't want to do it for any reason other than the right one, and this is not it."
Marin nodded. "You want to do this with someone you care about."
Clark looked sideways at the wall. "Of course."
"Someone you love."
Clark crossed him arms, gripping his elbows. "Yes, and call me crazy or old-fashioned or whatever you want, but I had the idea I'd wait until I was married."
The part of Marin's soul that responded so deeply to such homespun decency wrapped itself around her, and she had to fight to keep it out of sight. "So your wedding night, with your wife - you'll wait until then."
Clark nodded mechanically. "That's the plan."
"So, it's the woman you love that you'd be willing to put at risk?"
Clark's face twisted into anguish. "That is not fair!" he cried.
"Exactly!" Marin shouted back. "If you have legitimate concerns about whether or not it would be safe for you to so much as consummate your marriage, yes, it would be extremely unfair of you to risk her well-being because you were afraid or unwilling to find out beforehand - for her sake."
The other three in the room seemed to wordlessly concur that Marin had the situation in hand, and silently left the two to their argument.
Clark ran his hands through his hair and began to pace the room. "Look, I was raised respectfully - maybe not progressively, but I like it that way and I wouldn't change it if I could. Yes, I have impulses that sometimes I'm pretty much dying to act on - yes, okay, I've got that part of being a 'normal teenage guy' down pretty well - but the point is I don't, and it's not only because of what may or may not be the consequences. It's - "
"Supermorality, huh?" Marin had softened in spite of herself.
Clark seemed to detect that she was backing down. "Yeah, maybe," he admitted, forcing a half-hearted attempt at a slight smile.
Marin sat on the edge of the conference table, her feet resting on a plastic chair. "It's kind of funny, you know - the only ideal All-American boy I've ever met, and he's from a different planet."
"Hmph," Clark snorted. "If I were anywhere close to ideal, I wouldn't be in a subterranean lab trying to redefine 'safe sex.'"
"There you have it."
"What?"
"Ideals."
"What about them?"
Marin took a deep breath and tried to calm her involuntary reaction to Clark enough to select the right words. "Ideals - you were raised with certain ideals in mind - ideals like marriage and first-time wedding nights - I'm not criticizing that by the way, I'm just trying to set up my reasoning. The thing is - you've got this idea in your mind of the way everything is supposed to be - this ideal - but the problem is that those ideals are made up of conventions, which are rules defined by what people can and can not do, as determined on a social or physical scale. Sorry, I know I'm drifting into sociology talk, but are you following me so far?"
Clark nodded. "Yeah, I got it."
"So," Marin went on, "for example, none of the conventions of physics really apply to you, at least not in the same way they apply to other people. And because of that, there are some other conventions you can't allow yourself to be completely bound by."
Clark tried to let that sink in, but he couldn't come to grips with it. "It sounds like an excuse to me."
"It's a reason."
"Same thing."
"No, Clark." Marin shook her head. "Have you ever heard the saying 'the heart has reasons which reason does not know?'" Clark nodded, so Marin continued. "Sometimes we do crazy things, maybe foolish things, for love - but that doesn't make love an excuse. It makes love a reason - in this case, a reason to do the right thing to make sure nobody gets hurt."
Clark sat in one of the molded plastic chairs and looked up at Marin, considering what she'd said and all that it meant for him - and for her. "But it could be you who gets hurt."
Marin smiled, albeit nervously. "I'm a big girl, I'll be okay. I am an informed and willing participant, after all."
Clark sat back and thought it over, then shook his head. "I just don't know."