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The Superhero Handbook
A Do-Gooder's Guide to Saving the Planet A Book in Progress by Glenn Campbell Chapter 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 Production Notes This is a DRAFT document, and everything here is subject to editing. Your feedback is encouraged! FamilyCourtGuy<at>gmail.com |
[Note: This chapter will probably appear near the end of the finished book.]
Your career as a superhero will consist of a series of interventions strung together. That is your oeuvre, your life's work. Unless your gift happens to be immortality, you will have only a finite number of interventions in which to get things done. After that, you will die, and your powers will die with you.
People usually start preparing for death only when it looms before them. I suggest you start preparing now. After all, any day could be your last, especially in the superhero biz, which is fraught with danger and uncertainty. Whenever you check out—be it tomorrow or fifty years from now—you want to leave as few things undone as possible. It would be nice to have your accomplishments all tied up in a neat package, without many loose ends.
I'm afraid I can't give you any insight into the life beyond this one, as communication with the dead is not one of my skills. What is fairly certain is that this world will continue without you. For all I know, you could persist as a ghost, haunting all your old places and watching what happens next. It is clear, however, that your ability to interact with this world is going to be severely limited. Generally speaking, dead people don't accomplish much except for the words and actions they leave behind.
As you race around saving people, you want to start thinking about your legacy. Saving someone in the here-and-now may offer some satisfaction, but as you move on in life, you want to be focussing more and more on the big picture. You want to start thinking about how history will see you. History, in fact, may not give a shit, but it still doesn't hurt to think that way. What is my legacy on this planet? What do I want to be seen accomplishing here?
When some people get very rich, very famous or very powerful within their society, they think they can write their own history. They use their super powers to control the media and dictate how their story is told. This may work while they are alive, but their control stops as soon as they cross the threshold. Many a Dear Leader has become a Dear Buffoon as soon as he dies, because that's what he really was.
What you want to be building is not a public image but a true legacy of accomplishment. It doesn't matter what people think of you today, or even what they think of you after you are dead. Whether or not there is a God to witness and reward you also doesn't matter. What matters is what you actually achieve—and know you have achieved—in the advancement of the human race.
When it comes down to it, you are your only witness. You are the one you are trying to satisfy. This whole superhero road isn't really a mission to save others. It is a quest for inner peace.
Let's back up for a moment and think about how you got here. Do you remember? No, of course you don't. It just sort of happened. You gradually became conscious on a strange planet, in an alien body, living with a family you didn't choose in a society that seems more and more brutal the more you look at it. What could be more traumatic! Over time, you may come to believe you belong here, that the family is yours and that you and your body are the same thing, but it isn't true. It can never be true. You're an alien here and always will be.
Your basic alienness is what drives and motivates you. You were imprisoned here against your will. A set of circumstances have been imposed on you that you have little control over. There are no spaceships leaving this planet anytime soon, so what do you do? You do what all prisoners have to do: You try to make the best of it. You try to find meaning in the meaningless.
If you feel anything at all, depression and insecurity are your constant companions. Who am I in this chaotic place? Why is this happening to me? The family you grew up with may have lead you to believe you were the center of the universe, but as you emerge into the larger world, you find that you are not the center. You are hardly even a peripheral player among the billions of prisoners already here. What's the point in even living, given the small and insignificant smidge who you are?
Then you discover your super powers. There are things you can do that no one else around you can. Maybe you can see through walls, run a football faster than anyone else or make the boys go gaga with your good looks. Whatever your special power is, it's a shred of light in the dark anonymity of your life. Suddenly, you are somebody. You have an identity. You aren't just a prisoner any more but are beginning to gain some power over your prison.
Alas, for most prisoners, these powers are used up quickly. Most people advance themselves out of one prison only to sign up for another. We know what's going to happen to the good looking girl and the football stud. They'll use their skills to buy things that ultimately tie them down—that trap them in the same sort of prison they grew up in.
But the guy who can see through walls, he's got promise. How's he going to explain this to anyone? He can't. It's just a little thing he keeps to himself and has to grapple with all alone.
That's where the journey begins. What are you going to do with your unique power? What does it mean? How are you going to integrate yourself with people who don't understand your power and never will?
It is in the nature of superheroes to be privately tormented and somewhat alienated from their society. With power comes responsibility, and it never sits easily. Every decision you make can be second-guessed. Did I do the right thing? When you have a super power, your smallest motion—like a word or a sneeze—can have vast unintended effects that you remain responsible for.
It can be hard to sleep at night knowing how much of the world rests on your shoulders, but you learn to do it. The biggest danger is that you sleep too soundly—that you begin to forget your enormous power and its potential effects. That's when you start doing cruel things to others without even realizing it.
Superhero work is about finding a balance. You need to be tormented to do your job well, but obviously not torn apart. You have to be willing to give to others, but you don't want to jeopardize your core resources.
The world is a desperate place that will suck you dry if you let it. No matter how great your super powers may be, you aren't going to fix the whole planet. At best, you are only going to address a tiny sliver of it, and a key to your success will be deciding what that sliver should be.
Next Chapter Coming Soon!
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