Just another post-modern “it sucks to be all-powerful” tale.
I was taking a midnight walk to clear my head and try to find a little peace of mind, however temporary, when I sensed the gunman behind me. Sensed his intentions, sensed him aiming the gun at me from across the street.
I had known this would come, and had planned for just how I would respond—but I had expected it to happen in broad daylight, with people and reporters around, to capture the event and what I said to the would-be assassin. Here, now, it was just him and me. I hadn’t planned for this. In several ways, I hadn’t needed to.
After all, if no one else witnessed the encounter, I had a free hand.
I disabled his gun, and when I heard the click as he pulled the trigger, I turned and walked calmly toward him. Disbelieving, he aimed the weapon at my face and pulled the trigger again, several times. Each time, there was only a click. After a few of these, I called out, “I’m afraid I broke your gun. I’ll fix it for you, but first you have to promise to stop trying to shoot me.“
He said nothing. I knew he wasn’t going to make that promise, but I kept walking toward him. When I reached him I gently took the gun away and told him, “Or, I could just hold this for you, for now. But you need to go home, read up some more, and give this a little more thought. What you thought you were going to do, can’t be done.“
His face was a mask of terror and anger. He sputtered briefly, then accused, “You’re the Antichrist!“
I sighed. “You cannot possibly have known how stupid and wrong this idea was,“ I informed him gently. “From what I’ve read, the Antichrist, when he comes, is going to suffer a lethal wound but survive. The only way I could have proved to you I’m not the Antichrist is by dying. Which would leave me dead, and you a murderer. Which helps neither one of us. And what if I were the Antichrist, and you had blown my head off with this? You can’t kill the Antichrist! Don’t you think I would’ve been a little miffed at you for blowing my head off? Do you think it would be pleasant to have a headless Antichrist pissed off at you?“
Somewhere in there, his brain kicked in and he seemed to actually start thinking about the possible consequences of what he had tried to do. But then he said, “I’d rather be blasted into dust by an angry Antichrist than denied salvation by an angry God!“
“Well, you’ve got me there. Fortunately for you, I’m not the Antichrist, and I’m not pissed off at you. I just can’t have you going around trying to shoot people, okay?“
“I will never bow down to you!“
“I don’t want you to bow down to me!“ I snapped. “I just want you to stop trying to shoot me!“ I restored the firing pin and pushed his gun back into his hands. “Go, and be stupid no more!“
I turned on my heel and walked away from him, watching him via my handy-dandy omniscience vision until I was sure he wasn’t going to try again to blow my head off. Not that he could have. I’ve tried myself, and it turns out you don’t have to be from Krypton to have bullets just bounce off (they don’t even hurt—much). I’d give these damn powers back if I knew where to send them.
What am I supposed to do with them anyway? Have you ever tried to just goof off when you have godlike powers? It’s not like that Jim Carrey movie, not even for a second; people get hurt. And a super-powered guy also gets a super-powered conscience.
Which also nags me if I try to just ignore all the crap going on in the world. I can be in several places at once, so it’s not like I have that excuse.
Why me?
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