Unnamed Superhero Story (part 1)
Boston Harbor. Forty-nine minutes. For forty-nine minutes Herman had had his head tilted down toward a glossy pamphlet that cost him three dollars and ninety-nine cents. He would have returned it if only he knew how to find the tourist trap of a shop where he bought the thing.
He was lost. Lost among a sea of other tourists, each with tilted heads themselves--figuring out where the next stop on the self-guided tour would take them. Herman felt like they were all so engrossed in the booklets directing them to the next destination, they were missing all the scenery in-between.
He should talk. Fifty-two minutes, now, had passed and he still hadn't found the statue of Christopher Columbus, the starting place for the walking tour he was trying to take. Next time, he thought, I'll pay for a real tour.
His dilemma had a simple solution, he could ask one of the scores of other tourists if he or she had found the statue already, but he couldn't chance someone would recognize him
A little height, perhaps--some perspective on the whole of Boston Harbor and and maybe he could get a better feel for how the obtuse map matched to his surroundings. Herman, with disregard for the rules of gravity, started floating straight up into the air.
"Hey! None of that here. Feet stay on the ground." It was a demand made with the tone of authority.
Herman landed softly and turned to see the source of the complaint. It came from atop a horse.
"Yes officer," he told the mounted deputy. Then, he added, "Could you tell me how to find the Christopher Columbus statue?"
Herman pointed helpfully at his map as if it explained his taking to the air.
The officer looked at Herman like he was incredulous for daring to ask for directions after being reprimanded. So much for being recognized, Herman thought.
The tension in the situation was rising, he could sense it. Herman's hand went instinctively to his top button. He touched it. Felt the solid round plastic. Resisted the urge to give it a strong tug.
He reminded himself that, to the officer, he was just another guy who could fly. One of too many these days, but if he pulled the button the servos running through his outer garment would pull his clothes into a small pack on his back, revealing his uniform. Not a uniform, a costume. A costume he had learned to loathe. But one pull and Herman would be revealed for the hero he was. The lawman who was sitting, literally, on his high horse would not only let him fly wherever he wanted, he'd probably ask for an autograph and take him to the statue personally.
He didn't pull the button. He did not want to be recognized, that was the whole point of a vacation.
"Further north, in the park...no flying." The officer replied to the question in the least helpful way possible.
Herman could already see the park was north on the map, but he could not keep his directions straight when all the streets were akimbo to any sense of direction.
"Thanks." Herman decided he'd had enough of the interaction, tucked his chin back down to his chest and decided he should find a place to eat, regroup, and try again.
