The Apprentice

Guess Who?

The cacophony never ends, even in the early hours of the morning. One might want to compare it to an opera, if it sounded good. In the high notes, printer lasers whiz back and forth, computers send sonic signals, laughter whoops over it all. The middle is peppered with unending key presses and chatter. Groans and sighs accent the low notes... Lois contributes most to those.

The hustle is what sets the Daily Planet ahead of its competitors, even as early as seven in the morning, and while Lois' mind understands what it takes to stay on top, her dragging eyelids refuse to catch on. She'd only been seated a few minutes, long enough to set her bag down and check her emails, when her chair screeches back with a push, and she raises her arms in a well-earned stretch. Or at least, a well-needed one. She adds to the tallies of sighs and leans back, shielding her eyes from the glow of the LEDs. The sounds keep coming, destroying her illusion of rest. A minute of sagging into her pleather chair later, voices erupt into raucous laughter.

One eye cracks open and slides to the side to catch the perpetrators. The rest of the early risers crowd around the announcement screens, people pushing shoulder to shoulder to get a look. That rouses her interests enough to sit up and push herself out of her chair. Rubbing one eye lazily, she drags herself over to the monitor.

"This better be front page material." She mutters, warranting a playful, knowing shove from the nearest caffeinated journalist. Her eyes finally focus on the image on full display, just as someone a couple shoulders over spits out a mouthful of coffee over half the screen.

Flanked by a sunrise sitting low of the horizon and black silhouettes of skyscrapers, Superman is in flight with Batman held tightly in his arms.

The laughter explodes into excited questions. "Who took the picture?" "How fast can we switch out the front page story?" "Did Lois see this? Did Clark?" "Who's gonna write the scoop?"

The sleepiness is sucked from Lois' mind just in time to hear the last question.

"I got dibs!" She yells, joining the racket and throwing one hand in the air.

"Sure, give it to Lois—" the editor-in-chief cuts in, turning to her to add "—but don't dally on getting the inside info!"

"Thank you, Perry!" Lois chimes, throwing herself at her desk. Her phone started ringing a moment before, and she knows exactly who the caller is. She piles herself over her chair and fishes the vibrating phone from her purse, the ID Superman flashing briefly in front of her eyes before she presses the device to her ear.

"I just saw the photo, what's the scoop?" She asks eagerly, reaching for the mouse with a free hand to wake her computer's monitor up. The man of the hour remains silent, and she thinks to clarify. "You and Batman, eastern Metropolis, what happened?"

Silence. She bites her lip. "I need this out in an hour, I— if I don't get a quote from you they're going to make up something crazy. You called me, why aren't you saying anything?"

She listens close, leaning forward despite her phone already being pushed firmly against her ear. The receiver picks up a faint sound from the other side, a tumbling, knocking sort of sound. She listens for a few moments more before asking confusedly, "Are you doing laundry?"

Almost inaudibly, a woman's voice whispers from the speaker "no, not the reporter", then the call ends with a click. Lois is left sitting in her own shock, surrounded by the endless clamour.