"To Be or Not to Be, That is the Existential Question" If given the power of a comic book superhero, is that person obligated to play the part for the greater good?

To Be or Not to Be, That is the Existential Question.

Chapter 1: To Be

The last class of the day and it had to be the one I hated most. I didn't hate it because I wasn't any good at, far from it, my grades were excellent. It's just that it was so boring.

Being your typical 17yo high school junior, I like every other male student in the class were bored to tears. And the class hadn't even begun yet.

Our teacher finally enters the classroom, to many a howl and wolf whistle from some of the boys. And why not, MS French, I know, ironic teaching English, but she also taught Elective French, was a thirty something hoty, with long brunette hair in a pony tail. Today she was dressed in what could best be described as a 'School girl uniform', just to the tasteful side instead of naughty.

It was going to be hard, pun intended, to follow the class work.

Everybody liked MS French, the student and faculty body completely. As beautiful as she was, it was still a chore to keep from nodding off because of the class syllabus.

But today she started class on a different note.

"Class. Today I think we'll take a break from the regular class contents and have a discussion based on common beliefs from popular movies and comic books,..."

There was some expected stir among the class, mostly the boys, but a few of the girls too. There were even a couple of both that snorted in derision.

"...Class, calm down, please. I know this may be considered taboo or left field thinking. But, last night, I and some of my college friends had just this same discussion at a party." She let us think about that. Then added, "Feel free to add your thoughts or opinions, you won't be graded on this. It's just a way of starting some dialogue going, to generate more interest in this class. The subject of English is more open than just spelling and reading."

"Ok, now, our discussion will be, 'To Be or Not to Be, That is the Existential Question' If given the power of a comic book or a movie superhero, is that person obligated to play the part for the greater good? And 'What is a Superhero?'"

As most of the class sat mute, I asked, "What do you mean? What is a superhero? Obviously a superhero is a hero with super powers. Like Superman."

Some of the class was nodding their heads at my words, except for Gena, the nerdy girl who sat next to me. Before MS French could respond, Gena says, "How can you even call Superman a hero. There's nothing heroic about someone who is impervious to anything that could hurt them. A hero is someone who knows that to help another, they could die, but still do it."

The classroom became very quiet as what Gena had said struck a nerve with nearly every member of the class.

I raised my voice, with loudness to make my point stronger, "HOW CAN YOU POSSIBLY make such a statement... " I was interrupted as the class erupted into chaos.

MS French let this go on for a bit, people loudly trying to make others see from their point of view. Until finally she blew a whistle that I don't think anyone in the class knew she had. The class was shocked into silence, allowing her to speak calmly, "Everyone's opinion is as valid as anyone else's. Now, Glen, why is it you think that Gena's statement is wrong?"

That's me, Glen Larsen, the slightly overweight, acne faced, nerdy male equivalent male version of Gena. The difference was Gena and I never got along, always seemingly diametrically opposed. Everyone like her nerdiness, while I was constantly being bullied for mine.

MS French asked me, "Would you care to make your point Glen before Gena is given an equal chance?"

"Yes MS French I would. The point I was trying to make is that 'Superman' by any definition is a Super Hero. Any person with the powers of 'Superman' because he is there to help others, making him a hero!" Smiling at Gena to do her best.

Gena stood , as if to make her point more meaningful, "Okay, that's fine. But what constitutes a power? 'Superman' is fast, strong, seemingly invulnerable to everything and can shoot lasers from his eyes. Surely 'powered'. But what of a person with a great mind, like Einstein. Or a composer that plays so beautifully that they make you cry. Are these not 'powers' as well?" Then sat down.

There was comments around the room, some whispered and some easily heard. Like, "Tell her Glen." Or "Superman's a punk!" Amongst a host of others.

MS French says, "Your response Glenn."

Since Gena had done it, I decided I should stand also. I stood up, "Thank you MS French, I would like to answer." Taking a breath, "Gena is right about one thing," nodding to her, "Super powers can take many forms as Gena said. Not all powers are created equal, just as people aren't. Super powers can take the form of strength like Superman, Wonder Woman and many others. They can take the form of the mind, Einstien, Socrates and Mozart. Even great beauty can be a power." Taking a peak at MS French.

Smiling MS French says, "Ok, that's well and good. For the momment, let's set that aside and discuss the existential question of our topic. Should a person with powers, significant powers, necessarily to required to help their fellow man / woman?"

I quickly asked, "Doesn't that depend on the circumstances?"

MS French, " Circumstances?"

Gena is quick to add, "On the way they came into their power. Is it from their birth, because they were born on a different planet. Or genetically, like the current showing of meta's. Or because they were experimented on, willingly or not by another party."

MS French asks, "Meta's?"

"Meta-human(s)," I said, "A small percentage of people worldwide that carry a latent mutant gene. Once the gene activates, anything is open for powers or looks. Sometimes referred to by movie mythos as 'Gen-X' or 'Mutant X'."

MS French smiles, "Like Wolverine, Storm, Jean Grey and Cyclops. X Men."

My stomach started to ache. I shouldn't have ate the questionable chimichanga for lunch.

MS French asks, "When do dormant genes activate? Are there tests? For these latent genes?"

I was going to answer when Gena beat me to it, that and the killer of all headaches. It literally felt like someone had stuck a knife in my brain.

I could barely follow what Gena said, "Since the advent of metas, there hasn't been enough emperical data. Most likely, those that develop the gene keep quiet about it to avoid being made a laboratory test subject. So far all people know is that you can't tell what form the mutation will take."

The rest of the class went fairly quick, not that I could tell. I started to get noxious and light headed. When class dismissed, I was sure I had the worst flu possible, I had cold sweats and dizziness. I started to stand and fell back into my chair to stare blankly out the window to my left.

Gena was standing to my right saying, "Geez Glen, you look like shit, "then reached out and touched my forehead, I wanted to respond, but couldn't. "Holy crap Glen! MS French, I think you better call the nurse, Glen's burning up."

As consciousness slipped away, I sensed MS French kneeling over me, she seemed to have things under control. The last thing I heard was her telling someone to go get the nurse and to clear the classroom. I smelled persimmons and vanilla.

The next I knew, the old school nurse was on her knees beside me, then I was out again. Another awareness was the sensation of being wheeled in a quick but calm manor. I heard a door shut, a big one with a good seal on it. I groggily tried to ask what was going on, "Whhaaatt... "

As my eyes open, a friendly face of a male EMT, he smelled like apples, shows in my sight line, saying, "It's ok son, everything will be alright." Trying to engender confidence and well being.

I tried to smile back, but was interrupted by an intense blast of pain to my entire body. I screamed as the pain increase to beyond what I felt was possible only to feel it grow ever greater. I continued to scream, louder and louder until I finally lost my voice. With a last great silent scream, I passed out.

I came partially awake to feel of being wheeled through a hospital hallway. The pain hit me again, possibly more so than before. I struggled and fought against the pain, in silence, cause my voice was still gone, only to find I was restrained. One of the people pushing the gurney must have noticed I woke up. "He's awake again! Someone, shoot him up again."

I sense the gurney stop in an ER treatment room, feeling a needle in my arm. I can feel the warmth of the meds wash over me, soothing the pain. As I slide back into unconsciousness, I hear the EMT tell the doctor, "We lost him twice on the drive here, Doc. I know he was / is in a lot of pain. He screamed so loud that he lost his voice. I almost thought I was going to go deaf." Then out again.

***********************

I was out for a long time, how long I don't know for certain, it just felt that way.

I had dreams, well, really nightmares. Yes, nightmare, is the right word. What else would you call having the sense you were engulfed in a raging fire. To feel so cold that the void of space would be warm and comforting. To struggle for a breath that just wasn't there. The whole time fearing you were dying and wish it were so just to escape the pain.

Amongst the horrible pain of the nightmares, there was the occasional lucid moment of pain, even more intense than before, evidenced by my screams since my voice came back slightly. Hoarse and quiet.

During these waking moments, I still fought my bonds against the pain that only seemed to get worse.

My whole world seemed to be made, of nothing but pain. Then one night, as the nurse was checking on me, the worst pain I ever felt. Easily 100 times worse than anything before struck me. I fought against the restraints to no avail. Doctors and nurses worked around me unceasingly until I finally became quiet.

I thought to myself, 'Thank god! The pain is finally gone." I tried to say something around the breathing hose in my throat, but nothing came out. I put every effort into wagging a few fingers, but I couldn't move. Nothing!

In the background of the silence around me, I could hear a faint noise. Over the noise I hear a doctor say, "Okay, that's it. Mark time of death as 4:32am." Beyond the doctors I could hear the sound of great racking sobs.

End of Chapter 1

Thank You for Reading!

Mopar

"Goddess Blessings!"