The Normals

Chapter Twenty-Eight: Even Stronger Than That

Somewhere, far away in the darkness, Marianne heard the sounds of the Supers getting their powers back. It was hard to connect it with the fact that she had just lost them. It was hard to connect any thoughts right now.

She was lying on her side on the cold metal floor. Her eyes were closed, and she was breathing slowly. She was savoring the fact of just being able to breathe. It was amazing that she could breathe, that she could suck air into her chest and fill it up and make it full, because every part of her felt so empty right now, so empty. She wondered if she had always felt that way as a Normal, and just never noticed.

The voices and screams of the Supers got louder. She wondered why it was happening, why they were getting their powers back, why her powers were gone. She remembered about Pet. She remembered about Roger. She thought, I guess he did it for a reason. She wasn’t angry. She could feel the seeds of anger within her, but she couldn’t focus on the emotion, because she was just too empty for those little seeds to grow. I wonder what I’ll do now.

She remembered about Roger. She remembered about Cindy Cyan, and the Shark. She remembered about her mother, and the little cell phone she had held out. She remembered about Brittany, and Rox, and Rox’s brothers, and Mrs Pleibitt, and all the little children at the daycare, and all their tired grumpy parents. All the Normals. She remembered about all the Normals; she remembered about herself.

She thought, No, I’ve definitely been this empty before.

She remembered sitting alone in her room, not fighting crime, not being Super, just turning through pages of Fantastic Monthly that she had already memorized. She remembered the piece of paper that had disintegrated in the pocket of her jeans. She remembered those words, and then she remembered some others.

You are stronger than this.

Right, thought Marianne, and sat up.

The Stuffed Cloud gave a lurch.

Roger and Cindy Cyan toppled sideways, catching themselves on the control panel. They looked at each other. “What was that?” said Cindy.

“Something went wrong. Maybe one of the lifters, or, or something. What great timing for technical issues…”

It didn’t make a big impression on either of them; it was just one more of a million things to worry about. Cindy knelt down by the Shark, who had just woken up, and kept checking for concussions, and Roger trained his eyes on the controls of the Machine for the last few seconds of its run. It ended. He opened the doors.

Out of one chamber streamed the Supers. They were still dirty and battle-worn, but something about them seemed to shine. Something in the bright colors of their costumes, or the way their shoulders were held back and their chins lifted up, or how some of them were floating and some of them were moving like blurs of color and some of them were pushing things aside—something about them translated into light.

Out of the other door came a few curls of picturesque steam.

Roger took a worried step in that direction, but before he could get any further, the floor lurched again. This time it was even harder.

And Marianne said, “I know I was not the only one who felt that.”

She came striding out of the Machine with the click click click of heels hitting the floor, and her balance in them was not half bad. Her chin was held up, her back was straight, her shoulders were strong, and her face was set. Nothing about her looked any different than it had an hour ago, when she was still a Super.