On the Second Day - Part Three

Way back in the day and before the invention of Super, the original League of Headquarters was nothing more than a glorified clubhouse on the wrong side of the tracks. A hodge-podge of slightly super-groups looking for, ultimately, a break on their taxes. As New Popolisville grew so did the League, until one day the building was all grown up. Tall, light and handsome. So bright and such a shining beacon of virtue and steel, of justice and glass, of GOOD and gold.

Corporal COPulent had a job to do. He loved his job. Loved the order. The law. The law was right beyond wrong. Above it as well. Right was always above and beyond wrong. He understood his job. He put on his sunglasses. And he suddenly saw through the League. Through the floors, the walls, the structure was as clear as the singing bells of the late Graham Alexander, a great inventor; a great grandfather too. He invented Super and without it, the Corporal couldn't do his job. His grandfather taught him about right and wrong. He taught him the secret to Super. He said to his grandson, "Listen to me Alex, the secret to Super is simple. There is a WORD in swords but no swords in a WORD. You might not understand this now. You will one day. Your older sister Mary understands. She'll look out for you and you for her. She understands. You will too."

Alex Alexander thought about his sister at the Jamboree and thought about his grandfather. He missed them both. He thought about his job. The AutoCOPS missed something. He should have seen to the interviews himself. Seeing through everything in the building had its advantages. The records showed only seven people inside the League since yesterday morning. Alexander, Worth, the Secretary, and a Faceless Robot all have alibis. He spotted the Manmad, the Moose and the Mute. In that order and off he went.


The Manmad was wearing his C-Thru Skin and a straighthat and nothing else. The Manmad was powering his flowers. The Manmad had company. "Well I'll be a copulating corporeal copula if it isn't CORPoral Copulent!" he lied and cracking all the sense he fit in his shallow sanity. "Wry again am I! A robot's death is like its life! I have mournography. How dare you shoe! Plenty have I and I have plenty. Why wasn't it me! I wanted to bill the cot! Fill it kindly! One killethal suicideath coming up!"

Alexander took off his sunglasses and looked the Manmad right in the eye. "Are you trying to tell me that you're sorry for not killing the robot yourself?"

"I'm pretty in pity! And a plaid hand!"

"Had a plan? To kill the robot? How would you have done it?" Alexander asked.


"I still don't understand why you're not locked up." he sighed and the Manmad gave him a lollipop.

"You're one jollicop!" fried the creek and then he dried the train.

"That will be all for now. Carry on." and Alexander wasted no time in going to see Brother Moose.


The Monastery was on the top Forest Floor, its idyllic country green perched and nestled on a balcony over on the East Tower. Everyone calls it the Beast Tower. Four pairs of giant wings made of concrete, white carbon and golden silver spring from beneath the floor and fold gently over a monk in a temple on a hill in a forest on a balcony in a tower. The wings closest curved over half the greenery while the furthest pair flew straight up, the wing tips bent back ever so majestically. There was an afternoon blue blanketing the air and a pair of clouds rested gently in the middle of the sky, which was crispy and clearly beautiful.

"The GOOD GOD thanks you, Alex." and Brother Moose wasted no time in eating the lollipop. "Care for a prayer?

There's a goodly battle that
Shares a badly prattle, and
Those that exhaust goodly and
Souls that accost badly, what
Few won and understood, that
Through one comes some GOOD,
Whom the sun hums to GOD and
Do they run, drum or plod?
Say unto them,
Whoa to the NO GOOD!
Whoa to the NO GOD!
Badly confused, then hear all my news with
Goodly infused and lay bare the shy ruse with
Proudly accused, we cheer with wry music.
Say unto them,
Whoa to the NO GOOD!
Whoa to the NO GOD!
Now who is this devil, this Prince of Lies?
You ain't nothing 'cept GOD in disguise,
Too GOOD to be true since we got wise.
Say unto them,
Whoa to the NO GOOD!
Whoa to the NO GOD!

"Wonder how you shall say the True Law?" rang Brother Moose.

Spoke Alexander, "With a revertant and renew'd awe." as he looked down at the ascetic. Brown and bare and big and bald. Alexander resisted an urge to sit with Brother Moose under the sicknomore tree and hum some hymns. Worth would be back soon. He noticed a spider had built its web between the monk's feet. The records showed that he'd been sitting in his temple for the past few weeks. He wished the Brother a very contrite "Merry, merry." and Alexander went to see what the Mute had to say.


When the Super-Sensibles moved in they opted for the original League as their own headquarters. The glorified clubhouse sat in a large courtyard on the glorified ground floor. It's still the same old place since way back in the day except it's called the Oloh now. Or that Club. Or this Olohouse. Or on Olohground. Alexander walked through the front door and the Astute Mute was plainly sitting and mainly holding a half a century year old newspaper with a frontpage headline that read INVENTOR OF SUPER MYSTERIOUSLY MURDERED.

She was wearing her Artful Attire, made from every letter in the alphabet. A Witty Watch with no face, just these tiny Golden Gears and Silver Springs. They were still and broken and the watch had a Savvy Strap that wrapped around her right wrist and up her lengthy limb to an Adept Armlet. Shoulders were naked and revealing her neck which was clasped in a Clever Choker latched with a Locket Lock and no key in sight. Lips were useless and her bland and blind eyes were shaped like almonds with a creamy hazel center. She was holding an Uninteresting Umbrella which was the colour of umbrage and it unfurled and curled above her. Hair fell back and wound around down the left arm and grew from her fingers and into the handle for her Hairybraid Handbag which she reached into and pulled out a long lost letter. She handed it to the Corporal.

The old envelope was stamped and delivered to the League and addressed to Graham Alexander. It was from Ward Reward. Alex opened and read it.

The strangest thing happened to me just the other day! Oh Hammy, if only you were here to invent a little sense of it all. I was giving a dose of some Super to this guy who says he sells futures; not like that fortune seller, something further. He shows me the far fates and I see t'morrow's morrow, which consists of this lovely blind lady getting dressed! Very slowly. It takes her all day and all night and she doesn't say a word the entire time! It's artfully mesmerizing. And she's in the middle of the League Lounge! It's the same next century as it is today! No growth? How can that be?

Then the dame sits down and picks up a newspaper. I can't read the headline, a drawback to bending the lens of time I suppose. When she pops the paper up, this old envelope falls out and slides straight into her fuzzy purse. Then Captain COPulent walks in! He hasn't aged a bit and he stares at her and then the girl gives him this old envelope and he rips it open and looks at this letter. He seems to understand what he's reading and just as he's about to say something, anything at this silent point, the whole vision fades! Why is the future so quiet, Hammy? What does it all mean? - Ward