Entropy-man, Entropy-man, doing the
best he can,
Realizing he isn't the destructive
force everyone thinks he is,
That he is just as good as Superman,
And that he owes a debt to Clausius.
Rudy scribbled the poem haphazardly,
grinning with an exuberant enthusiasm he hadn't felt in years.
He got it! He finally understood it.
After years of worrying and wondering, he knew the source of his
troubles.
But troubles no longer. An ability, a
superpower!
Ten minutes ago Rudy's attention
drifted from the calculus lesson his teacher was scrawling on the
board. This solution intruded on his everyday daydream.
The question: Why did objects
deteriorate at a faster than normal rate near me?
For the last half decade his mind had
subconsciously considered the question. For the last year, he'd
formulated one hypothesis after another, collecting evidence and
collating data. He had never really analyzing it, but amid the drone
of Mr. Randolph's strident voice a conclusion materialized. The poem
sprung to mind simultaneously, and copying it into the margin of his
paper cemented his certainty. Rudy didn't assign credit to his
mathematics teacher, but his science teacher, Ms. Mohr. She
mentioned entropy a few days ago and an environmental feature of his
current situation must have triggered a reaction in his brain to
connect the pieces.
It seemed obvious now. The evidence
rushed, clarified, into his focused, musing mind. He remembered his
mom commenting on how fast he ran through socks. One week they were
fresh, clean, and new, but not a month later they had holes in the
heels. His dad had always said that maybe he stepped too heavily,
and couldn't he try walking on tip-toe sometimes?
That was bad dad humor Rudy knew. But
there were the pants. They split so easily. Even the slightest fall
led to a new tear. That was the style, so it didn't matter, but it
bothered him, because he didn't like the fashion. Those in otherwise
good condition were flecked with paint. He looked down and saw the
blotches of red from the indoor wall, white from the outdoor trim,
and brown from the porch. With enough time Rudy could catalog his
mom's painting projects.
The bell rang and Rudy roughly stuffed
papers into his book bag, knocking it brutally into the desk as he
stood up. Classmates milled about him, but even the conclusion of
school failed to distract him from his thoughts. A new, related
concept entertained his mind. He always felt as if he were straining
to curb his destructive power, but maybe he could channel it for a
purpose. Unleashing entropy inside seemed risky, so Rudy rushed out
to his car.
As he dashed and dodged through the
crowded halls, Rudy considered other episodes which confirmed his
uniqueness. The walls of his room were scuffed, as if repeatedly
buffeted by an abrasive surface, though no one came in except for
himself. And the lawn mower. He had mowed the lawn the entire
summer, and at the end it had died. A repairman told his dad it had
suffered from multiple failures. The usual; rust, overheating, wear
and tear. Dad told Rudy that the duty of cutting the grass was now
his younger brother's. A good character building exercise, Rudy
thought, and after all, I'm going to college next year, so Jake has
to start while there's still someone there to offer advice if he
needs it.
Arriving at his car, Rudy paused while
his thoughts condensed. The red hood reflected the warm September
sun as he absentmindedly considered it. “What can I do?” he
asked himself, looking around. He recalled the most profound
superhero scenes. Bruce Wayne discovers a bat in his home, which
leads him to an abandoned well, the Batcave, and a revelation amidst
a swarm of bats. Peter Parker's desperate struggle to free himself
from a mountain of rubble dropped on him by the Vulture forces him to
fully accept himself as Spiderman.
Rudy stood for some time, while other
students milled past. He felt exhausted, and at last he considered
his mistake. Dejected, he climbed into his car and turned the key.
Nothing happened. The dashboard lights indicated the battery was
dead. He sat in shock for a moment, but then he felt energized.
This must be the result of his ability. His success had come from an
unexpected source. He had deteriorated the battery in his car with
his ability!
He opened the hood, and with the help
of the school security guard, jumped the car. He closed the hood and
climbed into the front seat. On the drive home Rudy silently harangued his parents for purchasing a house in an awkward part of
town. While his friends drove home in five minutes on the highway,
Rudy lived in a section supplied by a series of back-roads where the
speed limit never passed 30 mph.
The slow speed allowed other thoughts
to bubble forth. Every hero had an enemy. Who would be his? The
local bully, or some as yet unknown fiend?
Every hero also needed an assistant.
Someone to aid and confine in. It could be a friend, but maybe it
would be smart to confide in a wiser head. The choice was obvious.
Swinging his car into the driveway he leapt out, stumbled the ten
paces to the house, crashed into the screen door, threw it open, and
unlocked the front door.
“Mom,” he said, “I need to talk
to you.”
Once he'd found her, and convinced her
that his information was more valuable than her time spent cleaning,
cooking, and relaxing, he explained the whole story.
She looked at him calmly, her
expression unfathomable. Then she said, “Rudy, you're my son, and
I love you, but that is preposterous.”
“But Mom... everything seems to
deteriorate around me at an abnormally fast speed.”
“That's because, and I mean this in
the kindest way possible, you can be hasty, lazy, and careless. Your
pants are torn because you don't tie your shoes properly and fall
over more often. You scar the walls you walk near because you bump
against them, scraping them with the metal buttons on your clothing,
and you are too distracted to notice. And you took such poor care of
the lawn mower, your brother has to do it now.”
“But...”
“You drove it until it was out of
gas, never checked the oil, and left it out in the rain repeatedly.”
Rudy hung his head, dejected.
“Is this how you feel about me?”
“I love you, but you don't take care
of your surroundings, including your own possessions. How else would
you explain it? Think Rudy.”
Rudy thought. He considered the
problem from a new angle, with additional data provided by his
mother.
“I think,” he said at last, “that
when I see a potential problem, I convince myself that it doesn't
need to be resolved at that moment. That I'll fix it in a few
minutes when it becomes more severe. I suppose I don't act right
away, because it seems easier to wait, and maybe the problem isn't as
serious as it initially appears.”
“But that can lead to trouble if the
problem is dangerous enough.”
“Or maybe I don't even recognize the
problem until afterwards. I only think I saw it after the fact.”
“That removes you from
responsibility, but not from the consequence.”
Rudy felt drained by the self
examination, and deflated from his earlier euphoria.
“Would you do a favor for me?” his
mom asked, a smile at the edge's of her lips.
“What?”
“You look like you could use a
respite from your mother's condemnation. I need some butter for
dessert tonight. Why don't you call up Jessica, and spend some time
together, and since her house is near the grocery store, pick up some
butter on your way home.”
Rudy bounced to his feet. “Great
idea Mom!”
After a quick call he was back in his
car, and pulling onto the highway. He gradually pressed down on the
gas, and something flickered in his vision, the shade of a tree. 50
mph... And again on the hood, a waver, but it was probably the bump
at the overpass. 55 mph... Did he see a vibration again, or did it
not even register in his consciousness? 60 mph...
Woa...
Bam!
Hold o...
Screech!
As safety glass showered Rudy's face
and torso, he quickly checked his mirrors and pulled into the
breakdown lane.
He sat in shock, staring, not at the
highway, but the red hood of his car, implanted in the destroyed
windshield, blocking entirely his vision of the road ahead.
If any day can conduct a revelation
directly to the human soul, the conclusion of Rudy's first day of his
Senior year convinced him to live with more attention to the details
of life. To slow down and focus on one's surroundings.
Or just maybe, Entropy-man had the
ability to degrade the latch holding the hood to the car when he
touched it earlier that day.
Recent:
Relevant:
Comments
Post a Comment