Brenden Pontz

Brenden Pontz

The Man of Tomorrow

Dedicated to Alaine Nitch-Ball

It was 6:00 a.m. on the North American west coast, and Haroon Wilson was getting ready for school. He had no idea why the professor insisted they start class so early, but Professor Barnett was several time zones ahead of most of his students. It made the young man regret picking Ancient History as his major, but with his father as a history professor himself, Haroon didn’t have much of a choice. Sighing, and wishing for the umpteenth time that he had just become a mechanic instead, Haroon woke up from his sleep pod and pressed the button that lifted the pod’s cover with an audible hissing sound. He climbed out of the pod, cursing the machine’s pre-wired schedule that pumped adrenaline into his veins in this early hour of the day.

After climbing out of the pod and putting on the silver bodysuit that served as his school’s uniform, Haroon began making something that vaguely resembled breakfast. The dehydrated package of toast and eggs was poor quality compared to what the average person ate, but being a student meant living in perpetual poverty. As he put his meal in the rehydrator, taking the gray cubes inside the packaging and turning it into proper breakfast food, Haroon killed time by surfing the web.

Haroon turned on the neural link that hooked his mind up with the Extranet, and started browsing articles. The news was the usual mess of politicians screaming at each other. The media was ranting about the famine in central Africa, the crime wave entering its fourth year in South America, and tensions between Earth and the Martian colonies that could possibly lead to war. Why is there always bad news on? he thought to himself. It seemed like a universal truth as permanent as gravity that the media would always obsess over the worst parts about life. A loud chirping noise snapped Haroon back to the physical world, indicating his breakfast had finished hydrating. The food had a similar taste and texture as sand, but at least it was edible. After brushing his teeth and ridding himself of the unpleasant grainy feeling, Haroon took another look at the clock and figured it was time to get it over with. College had started.

He pressed two of his fingers onto his forehead and activated the link that connected him to everyone else in his Ancient Mythology class. His mind conjured up a digital image of the lecture hall; a cramped, sparse room in Central Quinnequt University. The room held no desks or chairs save the professor’s, as very few students chose to attend physically. Behind said desk was Professor Barnett himself, a white-haired, overweight man wearing a suit that probably went out of fashion a couple centuries ago.

“Good morning everyone,” the professor said, his voice a dull monotone, “I see most of you have logged on. For those of you who are linking from the Martian colonies, remember to record and download this lecture, as usual. I swear, the service off-world gets worse every day.” A small smile crept onto Barnett’s face with that last sentence, he obviously intended it to be a joke. No one laughed. No one really participated in this class as is; for Haroon, it was just a cheap shot at getting more credits.

Unbothered by his passive audience, Professor Barnett continued. “This week, we’ll be discussing mythological heroes of the 21st century. Now, unlike our previous studies on myths of the second millennium, there are few records of 21st century legends. People nine hundred years ago stored their information on an early version of the Extranet, and most of their records were deleted after prototype neural links were invented in 2456. That being said, what modern digiologists could find was rather … colorful.”

The professor pulled up an image on the neural link, and Haroon’s mind was hit with one of the strangest pictures he had seen all semester. It was of a man wearing a blue bodysuit, red boots, and a red cape. On the man’s chest was a symbol that looked similar to the old English letter “S.” He was lifting a hulking mass of green metal above his head that Haroon vaguely recognized as a “car.” “This,” Barnett said, “is the Steel Man. He was a legendary hero from ancient America, a predecessor state to modern-day Usona. Besides their mythology, the Americans have given us much in the way of culture, politics, and language.”

That’s when a female voice spoke up. Haroon couldn’t see her on his neural link, but he figured it was Aeryn Vaughn, the class’s resident high-marking student, and one of the few in their class hailing from Mars. “Professor?” Aeryn asked, “Wasn’t Central Quinnequt built where an American institute used to be?”

Barnett let out a genuine smile at the sound of actual participation. “Why, yes, Aeryn, this building is on the same grounds where a state-wide school once stood. Excellent observation.” Haroon rolled his eyes, did she have to be such a suck-up? All the Martian kids seemed to have that attitude, as if they were trying to bridge the gap between the two worlds through the power of overachieving. Haroon considered it a pointless exercise. After all, how could so few people stand against such a massive conflict? Better to just keep your head down and move along like the rest of humanity.

Thankfully, Barnett managed to keep the lecture going. “Now, back to the Steel Man. According to the earliest tales of his existence, the Steel Man was an alien sent to Earth from a doomed planet. On our world, or mother world for those of you on Mars, he developed supernatural powers. Much like the legend of Hercules, the Steel Man was known for his feats of great strength. As you can see from your neural link image, he could lift objects that weighed multiple

tons. He was immune to virtually all weapons and could fly in a manner similar to our 31st century gravity augmenters.

The Steel Man used his gifts to protect the people of Earth from crime and terrorism. His greatest enemy was a scientist named Lexthor, who grew paranoid that the Steel Man would turn against his adopted world. Lexthor used his intelligence to combat the Steel Man’s strength.”

“Professor Barnett?” Aeryn asked.

Not again, Haroon thought. The rest of us have lives outside this class. Sadly, Aeryn didn’t hear his mental plea for silence and continued with her question.

“If stories about the Steel Man depict Lexthor as the villain, would that mean America was anti-intellectual?”

Once again, the professor beamed. “I’m glad you asked,” he said. “Stories about the Steel Man did in fact represent the values of ancient America, but not quite the one you mentioned. The Steel Man himself personified everything Americans held dear: bravery, honor, truth, and justice. His origin of being cast to Earth from a dying world represented America’s long history of taking in immigrants. But above all, he represented the ancient Americans’ sense of optimism and hope.” At this, Barnett’s voice started to gain some emotion, and he sounded almost excited. “To this day, no one knows how much of the Steel Man’s legend is true. He could be entirely fictional, or he could be a historical figure shrouded in myth, like the tale of King Arthur. But that didn’t matter to the Americans. To them, what the Steel Man stood for was as real as Earth or Mars. The idea that one man could make a brighter future. That’s why, according to digiologist records, he had another name: The Man of Tomorrow.”

Professor Barnett paused, a slight faraway look in his eyes. Haroon wondered if Barnett expected a light show to go along with his speech. Underneath his dull surface, that guy loved history in a way that some would describe as “passionate.” Haroon preferred the term “obsessive.”

After a few seconds of silence, Barnett seemed to snap out of it. Maybe he realized that no one was clapping for him? Haroon speculated.

“It seems that we’re almost out of class time,” the professor said, “I hope you were taking notes during this lecture, as much of it is going on your midterm.” Notes? At this, a whole string of frustrated curses ran through Haroon’s head; why did it have to be on the midterm?! He silently hoped he could find some answers on the Extranet.

Oblivious to his mental agony, Barnett made some closing statements. “In the next few days, we should be covering more heroic myths, specifically the tales of the Man-Spider and the Dark Knight. Both are very fascinating. And remember class, take a lesson from the Man of Tomorrow. Never give up on trying to make a brighter future. Class dismissed.”

With that, Haroon pressed his fingers against his forehead and disconnected the neural link. He instantly jumped onto the Extranet to download a few files on the Steel Man, hoping he could copy off of them during the test.

With that, Haroon wandered back to bed. His next class was two hours from now, and it was a good time to catch up on sleep. Yet as he headed back to his sleep pod, Barnett’s words still echoed in the back of Haroon’s head. Make a brighter future. Thoughts of Aeryn and the Martian students rose to the surface of his mind. Maybe they were onto something after all? The Americans certainly would have agreed. Though they were all long gone, the people of the 21st century would be proud to see their ideals survive into the next millennium. The thought made him pause for a moment before reactivating the sleep pod. For once, history began to sound a bit interesting.

Haroon drifted off, lost in visions of ancient heroes. Heroes who were born from a forgotten past, whose legacy could be used to help fix an imperfect present. The Steel Man would prevail across this vast void of time, always ready for another adventure. The Americans would have smiled seeing that Superman still lived.