Chapter 36: God Is Dead, the Overman Is Born

“You’re too stubborn, Jonathan.”

After Clark had gone into his room, Martha said to her husband, “You don’t want him to reveal his abilities because you’re trying to protect him.

“But Clark has such a kind heart. Helping and saving people is something he genuinely wants to do, and you can’t keep stopping him forever.”

Jonathan sighed. “Of course I know that. But Clark isn’t ready yet. He isn’t ready to understand life. We both know that, Martha.”

Taking his wife’s hand, he continued, “Clark came from beyond the stars. He must have been sent here with some kind of mission. Perhaps John was as well. They are destined to change the world someday.”

Martha gave him a wry smile. “Haven’t you noticed? Under Peter’s influence, Clark has begun longing for a different kind of life. He doesn’t want to stay on the farm forever and live as an ordinary child.”

She understood her husband, and she understood even better what was on Clark’s mind.

“If you keep suppressing him, Jonathan, Clark will eventually realize that a family is not only a warm harbor, but also shackles that restrain him. As he grows older, he will no longer depend on us or yearn for our protection. He will want to leave the greenhouse and help more people.”

Jonathan knew she had a point, but he still shook his head. “Not yet. Peter hasn’t taught him how to face society. You know as well as I do, Martha—even if our son has a body of steel, people will still tear this ‘freak’ to pieces.”

“You always have your reasons, Jonathan.”

Martha knew there was no point arguing with him, so she let the subject drop.

“Speaking of you, you’ve always refused to leave the farm, Jonathan. You’ve never even gone traveling.”

Faced with his wife’s teasing, Jonathan shrugged. “For most people, traveling means seeing the world. But for me, you are the world.”

Martha had never expected her normally unromantic husband to say something so sweet.

Her cheeks flushed faintly. “That was how you tricked me into coming to the farm when we were in college.”

“Do you regret it?”

Martha pretended to consider the question. “A little. But even if I could go back in time, I suppose I’d still let you trick me.”

As she spoke, she rose to her feet. “I should go check on Clark.”

Upstairs, Martha knocked softly on the door before pushing it open.

Clark was reading beneath the light of a small desk lamp. When he saw his mother enter, he placed the book beside his pillow.

“Mom.”

“What are you reading, Clark?” Martha asked curiously.

“A book by Nietzsche.”

Clark held up the cover for her to see.

Martha stared at the title, Thus Spoke Zarathustra, and her expression became slightly dazed.

“You can understand Nietzsche, Clark?”

She could not believe that a child not yet seven years old could understand a philosophical work like this.

“No. My godfather recommended it to me, but I like it.”

Clark explained that his godfather had recommended the book.

“Peter?”

Martha suspected that Peter might have overestimated Clark.

How could a little child possibly understand Nietzsche?

“Mom.”

Hugging the book to his chest, Clark asked, “Can I ask you a question?”

“Of course.”

Martha stroked his hair.

“Why did Nietzsche say, ‘God is dead, and now we hope for the birth of the Superman’?”

“Uh…”

Martha was caught completely off guard.

Philosophy had not been her major in college, and she had no idea how to answer.

“Ahem… It’s getting late, Clark. You need to go to sleep. How about I answer that question tomorrow?”

Thinking quickly, Martha resorted to the oldest parental strategy: delay.

“All right, Mom.”

Clark placed Nietzsche beneath his pillow and prepared for bed.

“Tomorrow, I’ll ask my godfather.”

The moment Martha heard this, she felt utterly defeated.

A profound sense of failure as a parent welled up inside her.

…

Meanwhile, Peter had no idea that Clark was planning to discuss Nietzsche with him the next day. He was standing beside the river where the school bus had crashed earlier that day.

The river murmured as it flowed onward, churning up foam that swirled toward the bank.

At the place where the school bus had been pushed ashore, automobile parts and rubbish lay scattered in disarray.

Peter gazed at the river, deep in thought.

The fish glowing with a green light had come into contact with Clark beneath the water, immediately leaving him weak.

That meant the fish in the Smallville River had been irradiated by kryptonite.

And there was a very good chance that kryptonite lay beneath the riverbed.

Peter drew a deep breath and removed his coat, revealing an upper body covered in powerful, corded muscle.

With a splash, he jumped into the river.

The icy nighttime water closed around him, bringing a penetrating chill.

But his physical abilities had been enhanced several times over by the wristwatch, so naturally, the cold could not affect him.

He plunged beneath the surface and began searching for traces of kryptonite.

Visibility underwater at night was abysmal. Even with Peter’s extraordinary eyesight, locating the kryptonite was extremely difficult.

After searching for some time without success, he began to wonder whether his deduction had been wrong. Then, suddenly, he saw a school of fish swimming toward him, each one glowing with an eerie green light.

The fish circled him once before slowly swimming onward.

Peter immediately followed, hoping they would lead him to the kryptonite.

After all, this was an exceedingly rare substance.

Rather than let Batman and Clark’s many future enemies get their hands on it and use it against Clark, Peter would be better off keeping it for himself.

Its value was not limited to collecting. Ground into powder and dissolved for Clark to consume, it might even improve his resistance to kryptonite.

Following the fish along the riverbed, Peter soon discovered a mass of kryptonite beneath a dense patch of aquatic plants. It was as large as a coral reef.

Staring at the vast quantity of kryptonite glowing with a soft green radiance, Peter’s eyes widened.

Even if all of it were ground into powder, there would be enough to keep Clark supplied for half a year or more.

With a splash, Peter broke through the surface, holding the glowing kryptonite aloft.

After swimming ashore, he set the kryptonite on the ground and wiped the water from his hair.

He casually broke off a piece and held it before his eyes, studying the stone’s brilliant green glow.

Officer Chandler had once said that the bank-robbery suspect had jumped into this river and vanished without a trace.

Considering that man’s superhuman physical abilities, could the bandit have been affected by the kryptonite in the Smallville River, mutated by it, and gained such extraordinary strength?

Peter lowered the kryptonite and fixed his gaze on the downstream current.

The swamp he had discovered earlier had been contaminated by kryptonite radiation. The radiation had altered the land and “revived” the corpses buried within it.

So it seemed entirely possible that the kryptonite beneath the river could also grant human beings superpowers.

He put the kryptonite away and shook his head.

But then why had the students aboard the school bus that had fallen into the river earlier that day shown no changes? And why had nothing happened to him after swimming through the river just now?

With a sudden splash, a small ghostly green fish leaped from the water beneath the silvery moonlight, gently disturbing the surface into ripples.