Recovered from archived instant-message correspondence: Superboy (Conner Kent) and Miss Martian (M’gann M’orzz)
Exchange Log Date: Feb 8, 2045
C. Kent:
Yo.
M. Morse:
What happened?
C. Kent:
How much did J’onn tell you about the Metropolis tech situation?
M. Morse:
Fragmented devices. No cohesive system. Why?
C. Kent:
Because that’s bullshit.
M. Morse:
Conner—
C. Kent:
I read the full internal reports. Clark signed off on them. They’re wrong.
M. Morse:
That’s a serious claim.
C. Kent:
I know it is.
But every device we’ve recovered is damaged. Cheap. Half-burned.
Nobody competent leaves intact tech lying around in shit-stained alleys.
We’re finding crumbs and pretending that’s the whole loaf.
M. Morse:
So you think we’re only seeing what someone wants us to see.
C. Kent:
Yes.
And everyone’s acting like because the damned things are quiet, they’re harmless.
They’re not harmless.
M. Morse:
You’re angry.
C. Kent:
Yeah. Because I feel like I’m the only goddamn person paying attention.
M. Morse:
You’re not the only one. You’re just the loudest about it.
C. Kent:
I’m not loud.
M. Morse:
You are absolutely loud.
C. Kent:
Fine. I’m pissed.
Every time I bring it up Clark gives me the fucking “we’ve handled worse” speech.
J’onn thinks it’s salvage junk.
And I swear there’s more out there. Intact. Waiting.
M. Morse:
Why didn’t you ask Robin?
C. Kent:
He’s on a mission.
M. Morse:
And?
C. Kent:
And he’s an asshole.
M. Morse:
Conner.
C. Kent:
What? He is.
He’d nitpick every line of data, tell me I’m projecting, then secretly agree and refuse to fucking admit it.
I don’t have the goddamn energy for that.
M. Morse:
So you asked me.
C. Kent:
Yeah.
Because you’ll actually look.
And because you won’t treat me like I’m irrational just because I’m mad.
M. Morse:
This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.
Where are you right now?
C. Kent:
Kitchen.
M. Morse:
Your grandparents’ place or Clark’s place?
C. Kent:
No.
Lois’s place.
M. Morse:
Are the walls still intact?
C. Kent:
…Yes.
M. Morse:
Conner.
C. Kent:
I’m not punching the walls.
M. Morse:
Good.
Lois likes her walls.
And Clark likes Lois.
So by extension, you like her walls.
C. Kent:
That is not how that works.
M. Morse:
It is exactly how that works.
C. Kent:
I’m not going to damage anything.
M. Morse:
Because?
C. Kent:
Because she’d kill me.
M. Morse:
Correct.
C. Kent:
Also because it’s not her damned fault I’m stressed.
M. Morse:
There it is.
C. Kent:
Don’t read into that.
M. Morse:
I don’t need to. You said it.
Clark dismissing your concern doesn’t mean he doesn’t value it.
He just defaults to stability. You default to action.
C. Kent:
I default to not ignoring red fucking flags.
M. Morse:
And he defaults to believing in people.
C. Kent:
I believe in people.
M. Morse:
You believe in punching problems.
C. Kent:
Punching things fucking works sometimes.
M. Morse:
Not Lois’s drywall.
C. Kent:
I said I’m not punching the damn walls.
M. Morse:
Send me the data.
C. Kent:
Sending.
(Several minutes pass.)
M. Morse:
Conner. The low-band signal on this unit—was the core physically tested, or just scanned?
C. Kent:
Scanned.
M. Morse:
That might not be enough.
C. Kent:
You think it’s not purely mechanical?
M. Morse:
I think it might not be purely mechanical.
C. Kent:
Clark moved the main piece to the Fortress.
M. Morse:
Do not take anything from the Fortress.
C. Kent:
I wasn’t—
M. Morse:
You were thinking about it.
C. Kent:
For five seconds.
M. Morse:
That’s five seconds too long.
C. Kent:
Fine. I’ll fucking ask Clark if I can take a look at it. I’ll grab it so you can take a look at it—yeesh.
M. Morse:
Good. That’s what I meant. Respecting boundaries doesn’t make you weak.
C. Kent:
Yeah, yeah. Respecting boundaries… sigh. Guess it’s easier to say than do.
M. Morse:
You’ll manage. And it’s not like he’s going to say no. He knows you’re careful when it counts.
C. Kent:
Careful… that’s generous. I mean, I don’t punch the walls, so that’s something.
M. Morse:
Exactly. Start there, Conner. One responsible choice at a time.
C. Kent:
One… responsible choice. Fine. I can do that.
M. Morse:
You can. Now text him. I’ll grab my laptop and pretend I’m not secretly excited to see what you’re whining about.
C. Kent:
…Yeah, yeah. Sending.
M. Morse:
You don’t have to fight everyone to be heard.
C. Kent:
I’m not fighting you.
M. Morse:
I know. That’s why you texted me instead of Robin.
C. Kent:
Yeah. You’re easier to talk to.
M. Morse:
Because I read your mind?
C. Kent:
No. Because you don’t make me feel like I’m just reacting.
M. Morse:
You’re not “just reacting.” You’re stressed. There’s a difference.
C. Kent:
Yeah.
M. Morse:
I’ll come over. We’ll look at it together.
No shouting. No wall damage.
C. Kent:
No promises on the shouting.
M. Morse:
At least not at Clark.
C. Kent:
…Yeah. Okay.
M. Morse:
And Conner?
C. Kent:
What.
M. Morse:
Lois would absolutely tell you to breathe before she told you to punch something.
C. Kent:
Yeah. She would.
M. Morse:
So breathe.
(A few seconds later.)
C. Kent:
Fine.
But if I’m right, I get to say I told them so.
M. Morse:
You can say it quietly.
C. Kent:
We’ll negotiate that part.
And M’gann?
M. Morse:
Yeah?
C. Kent:
Don’t tell Robin I said he was an asshole.
M. Morse:
He probably already knows.
C. Kent:
Yeah. You’re right.
