SlamFiction #1: The Auerbach Journals

October 17th, 1949

People have been on this planet for tens of thousands of years, this makes many people ask why the so-called “Powers” have only now started to appear. People say, “Maybe it is government experimentation” or “This is all because of 'the bomb'”. The truth is, no one knows where they came from, or why they are here. We don't know if they are from outer space, or angels sent from God. However, we do have ideas and numerous theories.

Have you ever noticed that throughout history, there have been numerous myths and legends? For the longest time, people have claimed that these were just primitive people trying to explain advanced concepts that they did not have the science to understand. What if, rather than being attempts to explain what they didn't understand, these mythological and legendary figures were in fact “Powers?”

Think about it. Thor, Ra, Merlin … all these people might have just been individuals that had a little something that made them unique. Could it be that someone like Hercules actually lived and breathed, but rather than being the child of a god, perhaps he was just a man who was extremely strong ... Or Thor just had the “Power” to manipulate weather?

But that begs the question, “Why did they disappear back out of the public eye?” This will require further research...

December, 10th, 1949

Of course, I should have seen this before. One can clearly observe a marked decrease in the instances of so-called “supernatural” phenomenon after the late 17th century. And I think my research may have turned up why. People are a fickle lot by nature, and charismatic individuals can sway the public mind from a decent neutrality to a fervent fanaticism in the blink of an eye. Good decent folk can be turned into mindless frothing killers, as was so disastrously evidenced not so long ago in Germany.

What if, the “Powers” went into hiding out of fear? Events like the Salem Witch trials and groups like the Spanish Inquisition would have made exhibiting these extra-normal abilities a crime punishable by death. Rather than face execution, the majority of powered individuals would have likely gone to ground, masquerading as average people just for a chance to live.

What a horrible fate, to have to hide what makes you special just to live. I pity those individuals of old, that they had to suffer the fear that so recently my own people had to endure.

December 22nd, 1949

I spoke too soon of pity for these “Powers”. I had yet to witness the destruction that they bring in their wake. Should I have been surprised? The stories of those I imagine were the ancient “Powers” often included violence and destruction. Why should the “Powers” of today be any different?

I suppose it was the rose-colored glasses of compassion. I see them now for what they truly are, a menace to society. A small city in Utah was utterly demolished today as these “Powers” raged. How many were killed, how much property damage wrought? Yet, the news heralds this Foundation as saviors. They do not see the evil perpetuated by the Foundation. Had they stayed out of it, one or two civilians may have been injured, some may have suffered a little property damage, but the vast majority of the town would have gone unscathed.

How can the public not see such things? How can they be so blind? I must tell them. I must help them see that the “Powers” are a menace.

December 25th, 1949

Those damned “Powers.” Words fail me.

This has never been a holiday I cared for, but I would never do... This. They attacked a crowded store, just down the street from my house. Maria was shopping there, I don't...

I'm sorry I can't write at the moment...

December 26th, 1949

Maria is in the hospital. Apparently she was assaulted when she tried to stand up to those out of control sons of bitches. The doctors don't know if she'll make it. The news sings the praises of The Foundation, for stopping the attack, and saving so many people. But where were they when Maria needed them?

If she doesn't wake up, so help me god, I will not rest until every one of these “Powers” pay.

December 31st, 1949

I haven't slept since it happened. Every day it seems as it a little more joy leaks from the world. What is the point of any of this without Maria? I brought our daughter, Barbara to see her yesterday. Barbie said her first word. She looked at Maria, pointed and said “Owie”. I couldn't bear to keep her there, so I took her back home and let her grandmother watch her.

I dozed briefly while I sat here with her. Pen in one hand , her limp hand in my other. I dreamed that she when I woke from that brief nap, my momentary joy was once again crushed, as I beheld her burnt and broken body. The mass of tubes and wires keeping her alive... My beautiful Maria.

As the joy continued to dissipate and things seemed like they could not get any worse, HE showed up. That pompous asshole, wanted to apologize as if his platitudes could magically bring Maria back. The final straw was when he claimed it was a tactical necessity. The Jackass actually claimed that her injuries were a necessity.

I'm not proud of how I reacted. He deserved what he got and more. However, it looks like Barbie will be seeing a little more of her father today...

March 17th, 1950

I haven't written much lately. I'm sorry about that. I haven't had much motivation. I lost my job a few weeks back. The University did not look kindly upon my scorn of the state sponsored “Heroes”. Shortly thereafter HUAC (the House Unamerican committee) came knocking at my door. They accused me of being a communist for refusing to sit by and watch as their superhuman commandos destroyed lives.

And through it all, Maria's status remains almost completely unchanged. It's painful watching her lie there. At least they finally removed the bandages. If nothing else, I can look at the face of the woman I married.

The tyranny of the “Powers” continues unchecked. I fear that soon, the government may no longer be able to keep their dogs in check. When that day comes, I will be there. I will be...

Oh! Maria opened here eyes! I've got to call a nurse...

March 21st, 1950

So this is the way the world ends. I always thought it would be with fire. Fire would have made more sense... felt more right. This is just madness, I still want to believe that it is all just a twisted nightmare. Some sick joke played by a demented doctor.

She had looked to be improving. Her hands were moving. She even opened her eyes. She looked at me, and I swear she smiled. Then yesterday, it all changed. I was holding her hand like normal. I was holding her hand any time I could. Hoping that somehow just knowing I was there would give her strength, would see her back into the light. This time though, her hand just went limp. She looked the same, but her hand was like a limp fish.

Doctors came rushing in, they shoved me out of the way. An hour later, a doctor came to me and simply said, “I'm sorry, she's gone.”

Four simple words, and the world ends.

As I planted a final kiss on my wife's cheek, I realized that it was never going to be fire... It was going to end in ice.

Damn them. Damn them all.

March 30th, 1950

It's an odd thing. A few days ago, I watched as they lowered the woman that gave my life meaning into the ground, and even though my heart still aches, the tears no longer come. I'm a dried out husk of the man I used to be, and without Maria here to give my life purpose, I just feel like a boat set adrift. I have to stay strong, for Barbara's sake. She's too young to understand what has happened, and if there is anything good in this sick twisted universe, she'll not remember this.

I wish I could forget. Wish I could feel something other than anger. Every time I close my eyes, I see her, wrapped in bandages, hooked up to all of those damnable machines. I see the leader of The Foundation, coming to the hospital to try and justify his actions. Can you believe that some of those bastards actually tried to come to Maria's funeral? They actually tried to crash her funeral. As if it wasn't bad enough that their kind killed her, they had to show up to rub it in my face. My final goodbye, ruined.

One of these days, I will repay them. One of these days. And as they mourn their loss, perhaps then...

Perhaps then I will finally find peace.

June 1st, 1950

They took Barbie away from me. I suppose that was for the best. With no job, and nothing but my hatred to keep me going, I'm far from what she needs in her life right now. She'll likely not even remember me, or Maria. She'll be able to live her life, and possibly find happiness in this horrible depressing world. In a small way, the thought of her finding happiness, gives me a momentary smile.

Then I remember the task at hand.

In California, it is easy to find a group that hates the “powers” as much as I do. I needed only to head north to Berkeley. And with no job, and no commitments, it was easy to just leave it all behind. The house only served to remind me of Maria, anyway.

Ah, but in Berkeley, the righteousness that lived there, the fiery hatred burned deep in their souls, and in that small group, I found the kindred spirits that I was hoping for. Ex-military, well-armed, and fueled by the same seething hatred that kept me going. With them, I knew my vengeance was possible. With them, I knew I would see the Foundation hung for their crimes.

Even now, the noose is tightening, and they are oblivious.

July 4th, 1950

This will be my final entry. It seems that our Independence Day revolution was doomed to fail. We over-estimated our might, and thought that the “Powers” would crumble before us. We were doomed the moment we pulled the guns. The slaughtered us, and even now, I can feel my life fading.

The thing that just makes me want to weep, is that the slaughter would have been so much worse, if The Foundation hadn't come in to stop things. The ones who killed my sweet Maria tried to save me. How's that for a kick in the teeth?

Dying isn't so bad I suppose. I don't believe in an afterlife, but at least I won't have to live without Maria any longer. We may not be together in the afterlife, but at least my suffering will end.

I hope that someday, Barbie might find this, and know that I loved her. I'll never get the chance to tell her that in person, but I want her to know that she was always loved.

I want to apologize to everyone hurt by my actions... I know now, that I was wrong...

---From the Journals of Prof. Robert Auerbach.