( in the night ) ic inbox

[uplifters]

@ kent landmark, rm. 404 "Hi! This is Clark Kent. Unfortunately, I'm not here right now, so please leave a message at the tone and I'll get back to you as soon as I can. Thanks for calling!" text | voice | action | etc.

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CLARK FINDS AN OPAL

[inthenightmods]

When he comes across this one in particular, he'll be able to tell right away that there's something different about it. It seems older, forgotten, and clouded. Indeed, even as he's thrust into the memory, it feels faded about the edges, like an old film reel that's been pulled out of storage. There's a grainy quality to the sound around him, as well, but everything is clear enough to understand.

He's sitting in an office; the place is decked out to the nines in expensive furniture and decorations. He's a visitor here, waiting with a stiff, serious countenance as the individual on the other side of the desk pulls a heavy file out from a locked drawer. The gentleman staring him down appears to be a species that wouldn't be found on Earth; his features are insectoid, and his torso is lined with many arms that fold primly over the specially-tailored suit he wears to accommodate him.

"This is a big day for you, Mr. Zipsell," he says. "I've been talking with the rest of the board, and with your father, especially, and we all agree that you've proven you're ready for what I'm about to show you."

"Thank you, Mr. President," Clark says, his voice hazy. Although the words are easy enough to hear, the tone of voice seems lost and difficult to identify. "It's an honor. I always hoped that I'd be held in such an esteem by the board someday, but it's a happy surprise to find myself there so soon."

"A surprise to us all," the President agrees, nodding, his antennae twitching. As Clark watches, the file gets slid across the table. "I don't believe I have to impress upon you the confidentiality of what you're about to read."

He nods and opens the file. The contents are shocking, but he reads it all in silence. Detailed reports of political scandal, cover-ups, conspiracy. The truth of the nature of the world's government, its relationships with the planets scattered about the universe, things that make him sick to his stomach. Secrets that are corrupt and harmful, and keep the system controlled. Keep the rich living in luxury, and the less fortunate struggling.

"Well, Mr. Zipsell?"

Clark looks back up at the President. He looks more like a monster now than he ever did before. For a long moment, the two say nothing. The air in the room is tense.

"I understand that you may be a bit overwhelmed," the President says slowly, "but remember all the people who are counting on you. Remember that your family is counting on you to make the right choice as you move forward in your career from here on out. I'm sure you'll do the right thing."

The sickness in Clark's stomach boils into anger, disgust, and then hardens into resolve.

"Thank you, Mr. President. I will do the right thing."