light, and the time has passed for him slowly enough so that he is just beginning to feel the effects of a day without food. At this moment he is slowing down in preparation for entering your field of atmosphere."
This was too fantastic. The doctor's mind raced over possible methods for one of his students to have set up this prank. He put his hands tightly over his ears and still heard the words perfectly clearly. He played his violin and the sounds of the music seemed on another level altogether. What he was "hearing" from this machine was not sound. Could it really have been a telepathic recording?
"Just as the navigational device was drawn to a world of intelligent beings, it was drawn to you, the most highly developed intellect on your world. The purpose for this is to implore you to take in my son Kal-El as your own and see that he is raised to proper manhood."
The possibilities of this being a hoax were quickly being eliminated in the old man's mind. He was listening intently.
"My son is of a highly developed humanoid species. Legends of the creation of our world imply that we are an offshoot of another world somewhere, and that at some time many worlds were seeded with humanoids. This is why I hold out hope that you yourself may be one. It would matter little, however, if you were not, as long as my son were exposed to the proper intellectual stimulation during his upbringing. I will attempt to pinpoint the location of Krypton in relation to the course my son's small rocket traveled and in that way enable you to determine where and when he is likely to touch down on your world...."
And the old man scurried to his desk and notepaper, almost excited. He would get past the nurse today, but not to buy an ice cream cone.
Chapter 3 S MALLVILLE
H e was not a small man, though he looked slight and shambling as he hunched in his seat on the bus. But now he was standing, a little stooped, next to the driver with one hand grasping an airline bag and the pole to keep steady as the other hand groped through the pockets of his baggy pants for change.
"Thirty cents," the driver said.
"Just a moment. Right here."
The old man's German accent touched off the driver's memory of the loss of a brother in the Second World War not long ago, but the wrinkled man smiled through his mustache as he maneuvered a handful of coins toward the tips of his fingers. There was something familiar about that smile.
"Here we are," and the old man dropped a quarter and a dime into the driver's palm, "thirty cents."
The driver didn't move to make change, since the old man seemed not to notice it was due him. The guy might have a nice smile, but a nickel was a nickel, after all. The driver might have wondered why he tugged his woollen cap down over his ears on a day as warm as this, but he wasn't that observant.
"Excuse me, officer." The old man stopped a policeman in the charming rural village. "Do you know of a nice hotel maybe?"
"Yes, sir, at that corner you make a right for a block and you'll see the Smallville Hotel sitting there big as life. Staying in town long?"
"No, just a day or so. Thank you, officer."
"Visiting friends? Relatives?"
"Yes. Friends. Thank you very much."
"I'll walk you there, it's just down the block. I'm Captain Parker. George Parker, Mr.—"
"Eisner. Umm, Calvin Eisner. Lovely day, no?"
"Certainly is. Rained yesterday, though. Where are you from, Mr. Eisner?"
"The east. New Jersey. Tell me, is there a taxi company in Smallville?"
"Sure is. You can call them from the hotel. Free direct line. What do you do in Jersey?"
"I teach. I am a teacher."
"A teacher. I love kids. I thought of being a teacher. Couldn't afford college, though. Who you visiting in town, if you don't mind my asking?"
"Who? Umm, whoever it is that owns that ice cream parlor over there. I haven't had a good ice cream cone in weeks. Would you join me in an ice cream cone, Captain Parker?"
"Seems like a long time to go without ice cream.
This was too fantastic. The doctor's mind raced over possible methods for one of his students to have set up this prank. He put his hands tightly over his ears and still heard the words perfectly clearly. He played his violin and the sounds of the music seemed on another level altogether. What he was "hearing" from this machine was not sound. Could it really have been a telepathic recording?
"Just as the navigational device was drawn to a world of intelligent beings, it was drawn to you, the most highly developed intellect on your world. The purpose for this is to implore you to take in my son Kal-El as your own and see that he is raised to proper manhood."
The possibilities of this being a hoax were quickly being eliminated in the old man's mind. He was listening intently.
"My son is of a highly developed humanoid species. Legends of the creation of our world imply that we are an offshoot of another world somewhere, and that at some time many worlds were seeded with humanoids. This is why I hold out hope that you yourself may be one. It would matter little, however, if you were not, as long as my son were exposed to the proper intellectual stimulation during his upbringing. I will attempt to pinpoint the location of Krypton in relation to the course my son's small rocket traveled and in that way enable you to determine where and when he is likely to touch down on your world...."
And the old man scurried to his desk and notepaper, almost excited. He would get past the nurse today, but not to buy an ice cream cone.
Chapter 3 S MALLVILLE
H e was not a small man, though he looked slight and shambling as he hunched in his seat on the bus. But now he was standing, a little stooped, next to the driver with one hand grasping an airline bag and the pole to keep steady as the other hand groped through the pockets of his baggy pants for change.
"Thirty cents," the driver said.
"Just a moment. Right here."
The old man's German accent touched off the driver's memory of the loss of a brother in the Second World War not long ago, but the wrinkled man smiled through his mustache as he maneuvered a handful of coins toward the tips of his fingers. There was something familiar about that smile.
"Here we are," and the old man dropped a quarter and a dime into the driver's palm, "thirty cents."
The driver didn't move to make change, since the old man seemed not to notice it was due him. The guy might have a nice smile, but a nickel was a nickel, after all. The driver might have wondered why he tugged his woollen cap down over his ears on a day as warm as this, but he wasn't that observant.
"Excuse me, officer." The old man stopped a policeman in the charming rural village. "Do you know of a nice hotel maybe?"
"Yes, sir, at that corner you make a right for a block and you'll see the Smallville Hotel sitting there big as life. Staying in town long?"
"No, just a day or so. Thank you, officer."
"Visiting friends? Relatives?"
"Yes. Friends. Thank you very much."
"I'll walk you there, it's just down the block. I'm Captain Parker. George Parker, Mr.—"
"Eisner. Umm, Calvin Eisner. Lovely day, no?"
"Certainly is. Rained yesterday, though. Where are you from, Mr. Eisner?"
"The east. New Jersey. Tell me, is there a taxi company in Smallville?"
"Sure is. You can call them from the hotel. Free direct line. What do you do in Jersey?"
"I teach. I am a teacher."
"A teacher. I love kids. I thought of being a teacher. Couldn't afford college, though. Who you visiting in town, if you don't mind my asking?"
"Who? Umm, whoever it is that owns that ice cream parlor over there. I haven't had a good ice cream cone in weeks. Would you join me in an ice cream cone, Captain Parker?"
"Seems like a long time to go without ice cream.
Similar Books
Already Freakn' Mated
Eve Langlais
A Man Called Sunday
Charles G. West
The Empty Ones
Robert Brockway
Wicked Widow
Amanda Quick
People of the Morning Star
W. Michael Gear, Kathleen O’Neal Gear
Sword's Blessing
Kaitlin R. Branch
Far Horizons
Kate Hewitt
Little Town On The Prairie
Laura Ingalls Wilder
Hurricane Stepbrother
Stephanie Brother
The Color of Distance
Amy Thomson