see without needing to continually move so that their field finds fresh light photons to give motion to.
In other words, Hypertime only appears to be time-frozen; the reality is far more complex, and we can find no explanation for why large-scale objects (doors) are frozen where small-scale objects (oxygen atoms and light photons) are not. To add to our frustration, laser beams, electrical discharges, and other forms of energy projection attacks—which are more organized patterns of small-scale objects—do, in fact, freeze in Hypertime. The rules make no sense.
The only thing which saves us from madness is consistency. There are observed rules, even when the foundations of those rules are lacking, and these rules are consistent if only on a case-by-case or category-by-category basis. These categories appear to be no less real for being self-described, so a breakthrough who is “psychically sensitive” can detect the operation of powers defined as psychic/psionic, and sorcerers can detect and counter the spells of other users of magic, even when they believe in and use wildly different magic traditions. Likewise, possessors of diabolical gifts can be checked by the powers of those who believe their abilities to be of divine origin. Breakthrough-scientists who believe that magic is a material phenomenon (powered by mana-particles or some other real source) have even been able to invent spell-detectors and ghost-traps—which, like anti-gravity plates and perpetual-motion generators, work only when they build them.
And here we can build towards certainty; by understanding the perceived realities of breakthroughs—the rules that they believe apply—we can begin to list and quantify rules to describe general cases. Will this certainty ever be more than conditional? Perhaps not; when we cannot even explain the Event, or why since the Event a comparative handful of people respond to physical and emotional trauma by generating miracles, even certainty of categorization remains too much to hope for. But this should not deter the scientist; first we observe, then we describe, and then, only if we’re lucky, do we get to explain.
Life, Fiction, and Capes
by Marion G. Harmon
Although I read comic books as a teenager, I was more into fantasy and science-fiction (JRR Tolkien and Robert A. Heinlein got their hooks into me early). But I remember the day when a comic first grabbed me; I’d stopped by a local 7-11 to blow a quarter on a Slurpee and browse the comic rack, and found an X-Men comic—the #137 Phoenix Must Die! issue, to be exact.
I’d never read an X-Men comic before, but the cover caught my eye so I stood there and read it. Then I bought it. It was epic. Heroic and tragic and deeply deeply human, the X-Men fought to save their comrade, but Jean Grey died willingly to save them. Scott Summer’s heartbreaking grief made a thirsty thirteen year-old cry. Or at least tear up right there in the store. And this was a comic-book, the medium where the heroes always won. Well, not always; later I learned about Spider Man and Gwen Stacy, for example. But X-Men #137 was my gateway to the X-Men series, in many ways the most serious and socially “realistic” ongoing superhero saga at the time, and it should not surprise my readers that my first meaningful experience with comic books was the death of a hero.
Since then I have read many, many superhero comics and while they’re mainly about the cool costumes and fight-scenes, the best stories transform the medium. They have given us so many colorful tropes and themes while borrowing shamelessly from every other genre around. This is one reason why, until recently, Hollywood superhero movies were invariably flops; the technology couldn’t deliver the glory of the action we saw on the comic-book page. Admit it—even Superman:The Movie was cheesy.
The best superhero comics have always been about the epic and tragic heroes, not just the spectacle. Other X-Men storylines delivered great tragedy, in the original Greek meaning of the word; Magneto, Eric Magnus, one of the Marvel Universe’s greatest villains, was always motivated by memories of the Holocaust. In the DC universe, Supergirl died saving everything. Green Lantern lost his mind and nearly destroyed everything. And other superheroes have fought alcoholism and drug addiction, faced family tragedies, divorce and even the death of children. One of my favorite Teen Titan comics was an issue where Dick Grayson (Robin) used his detective skills to help Donna Troy (Wonder Girl) find her long-lost family. All these stories are human stories, tales of misguided fanaticism, self-sacrifice, human failings and sorrows