#127: Return to Doomsday

Sunrise beat us to Bayonne, New Jersey the following morning, but only slightly. It was already daylight as Gene drove the white van up a gravelly path up Constable Hook, the promontory Avie and I had visited once before back in our reality. That time, we approached by air and from the east, in the flying Q-Mobile piloted by old boyfriend, Bing Gloom, also known as Yarn Man. This time, of course, we were climbing up the hill from the west. The sun seemed to rise anew as we reached the crest of the hill, casting the hulking old building in stark silhouette.
        “The Doomsday Factory,” I said.

#126: Docs and Cats

“I have a vehicle waiting outside,” said Grandma Seedy in a commanding voice to me. “There isn’t a moment to lose, Clarissa.”
        It crossed my mind that elements within the government might be using my grandmother as a ploy to kidnap me, but that seemed unlikely—and just plain paranoid. And yet, how could I be sure who was friend or foe in this alternate, Civilian Reality?

#125: Re-Election Day

When I got up the following morning, my first priority was to set my Ms. Megaton Man visor and buttons on the windowsill so they could recharge for several hours in the sunlight; after that, to find my polling place, the spooky St. Oriel Byzantine Church. It was a short walk from our West Forest apartment down Third Avenue almost to Martin Luther King Jr. Boulevard. I made it a point to get my ass out of bed early and cast my ballot for the challenger to President Harry Foster Lime, whoever that might be. I couldn’t start my day unless I knew I’d done at least that much to defeat him, as had been accomplished in my own reality.

#124: Melody Chrysanthemum

I supposed Preston’s last remark was intended to end our conversation, because he returned to his work stocking the bookstore shelves with an air that he was going to ignore me until I went away. I didn’t know what else to say, although I didn’t turn away immediately. But then I heard some familiar voices from behind me.

#123: Flying Blind

“They think I’m a Megavillain in this reality?” I cried, stunned. “But look, I’m busting some jewelry thieves or something, right here on the front page.”
        It was true; Clarissa Too was shown in a halftoned photograph busting some crooks with handkerchiefs around their mouths, although the caption read, Who is this mysterious “Megahero,” and what is her agenda?
        “They’re afraid of the color of your skin—and the fact that you have ovaries,” said Avie.