Death to Murphy

 

Chapter One

Law #1, and an introduction to superheroes.

 

            Law #1: Anything bad that can happen will inevitably happen.

 

            This is universally true from the day you were born until the day you forever turn the other cheek, nose down, in the dirt.  Everyone comes into this world wrinkly, smelly, and usually at high cost to the parents, and leave wrinkly, smelly, and usually at high cost to the children.  So you see, most everyone is screwed twice, just for being born.  There are a lucky few, however, who escape this unsightly demise prematurely in a ball of flaming glory, nearly instantaneously, and often riddled with newspaper headlines.  When I draw close to the end, my wish is to be left alone in a hostile wilderness, clad only in a leopard loincloth, wielding a broadsword.

But before my end draweth nigh, it is my sad duty to publish to all the inhabitants of the world how I have ruined every meticulous aspect of civilization on planet Earth, and, as I imagine, civilization everywhere in the universe.

Please know this, that I am very, very sorry.

            But before I disclose the fullness of the ends to the means, I must supply a few minor details of how the beginning to this end came about.

            First there is me.

            Believe it or not, there are people walking about who possess one or more special powers that could be construed as being super.  The mass media names these people superhumans.  You may happen upon them at any time and not know it.  Perchance the teller at your bank who you mistreat out of childish impatience could frappe you with a bat of the eye (beware!).  Mayhaps the homeless fellow on the street corner transforms into a hyperdimentional space bogey in his off-time and has saved us all from untold stellar doom on many occasions (don’t judge him!).   You must recall a time in your personal experience when, inexplicably, a long-misplaced treasure of yours turns up in an unforeseen location.  The reunion is sweet, indeed, but who’s to thank?  Not a superhuman.  Yet when evil lurks in the hearts and intentions of the criminally insane (or highly-funded and unscrupulous), be ever so grateful that there are those who will implement what means they possess to see such bastards fry.

            Who are these anonymous ultra powerful philanthropists?

            Ladies and gentlemen, I present to you the superhero.

Some with large brains in high, important places would have you to believe that “mutants,” or those with otherwise unexplainable special abilities or senses constitute a superhero.  Genetic mutations, they say, are the basis for such said powers.  I’m here to tell you – possessing no degree of Higher Education, be it Genetics, Chemistry, or even the ever-popular Bachelors of Fine Arts – that genes have nothing to do with it.  Those with special powers granted them simply have access to the vast catacombs of the mind which are forever beyond detection and study of Science and Medicine.  Some even have conscious control of neuronal functions that otherwise lie in the autonomic realm.  When one can not only see a grain of sand, but also to truly perceive it – touch it, weigh it, taste it, be it – that person can reach into that grain with his mind and manipulate its physical properties to such an extent that that grain, along with twenty-million others just like it become a mighty sandstorm.  All this and more, concealed within the vast and most-commonly vacated freeways of the human brain.

“Why do I not have supernatural powers?”  You may ask.  I would reply by first pointing out that there is nothing at all supernatural about super powers, and ask you to rephrase your question.  You may then ask, “Why, then, do I have no superpowers, if it is so unsupernatural?”  And then I would respond by informing you that most people do, in fact, demonstrate superpowers, even on a daily basis, and never realize it.  There was a man I once knew who could burn out street lamps with his mind.  Kind of nifty, you think?  The problem was, he could only apply this power subconsciously, when his mind was otherwise engaged.  Each time a lamp flashed into nothingness before him was like a festering screw-wound, burrowing one more twist deeper into his tortured soul.   A constant reminder of his inability to control his power.  So it is with most people – they either have a deeply integrated mental block that prevents them from exercising their powers openly, or their power is so inconsequential, they would never notice it or choose to develop it anyways.  Another friend of mine can instantaneously fall asleep by choice.  Poor sap.  She wants to fight crime so badly.

What makes a hero super is the conglomeration of two things.  First – wait! Three things – First: an uncanny control to an unusual degree of some element.  Second: that controlled element being able to be implemented in a functional manner to create a tactical advantage in the controller’s behalf.  Third:  An indissoluble disposition to use power for the betterment of mankind and civilization, and in the dispensing of justice.  Fourth:  Iron willpower and bravado when sparring with the ugly mask of evil (perhaps a fifth factor would be the need to be in the right place at the right time to combat adversarial forces – some people with huge potential just have the rottenest luck!).  The synchronized accumulation of all these virtues displayed in a single being (or, at least amongst a Siamese twin tag-team combo) is what eliminates most people from the superhero pool.  Although superheroes do not make up a significant percentage of a percentage of the world’s population, they are however what you might call a commonplace rarity – and I am one of them.

            My name is Seamus, and I led a normal, and utterly insignificant life until I was about seven hours old.  But we’ll save that story for another time.