The Ghosts of Heroes

“We are all ordinary. We are all boring. We are all spectacular. We are all shy. We are all bold. We are all heroes. We are all helpless. It just depends on the day.”     - Brad Meltzer                                                

“I took in a deep breath, and smoke twisted around my head as I let it slip through my teeth. “Do you know what my favorite show was when I was a little kid?”

The look again. “I would have no idea.”

“Doctor Who. British sci-fi show.”

“I am familiar with it. Christopher Eccleston, David Tennant, and Matt—“

“No,” I said. “The new show’s great, but I grew up on the old one. The low-budget, rubber monster show with Tom Baker and Peter Davison. I watched it on PBS all the time as a kid.”

I looked out at the dark ruins of Hollywood, at the stumbling shadows dotting the streets as far as you could see. The only other living person within half a mile was standing behind me, her eyes boring into my head.

“The Doctor didn’t have super-powers or weapons or anything like that. He was just a really smart guy who always tried to do the right thing. To help people, no matter what. That struck me when I was a kid. The idea that no matter how cold and callous and heartless the world seemed, there was somebody out there who just wanted to make life better. Not better for worlds or countries in some vague way. Just better for people trying to live their lives, even if they didn’t know about him.”

I turned back to her and tapped my chest. “That’s what this suit’s always been about. Not scaring people like you or Gorgon do. Not some sort of pseudo-sexual roleplay or repressed emotions. I wear this thing, all these bright colors, because I want people to know someone’s trying to make their lives better. I want to give them hope.”                                          - Peter Clines, Ex-Heroes                            

My place is the place of heroes; of a young, idealistic young man,  who fought the good fight but still lost. Running across a country, through chilling rain, and slogging snow, and unrelenting sun. Dipping his toe in one ocean with a vision to dipping it in the other ocean at the other end of the country.

Fate looks upon our silly human dreams with a bemused smile and a cruel attitude.  To this day, I whisper wishes, I mutter expectations, murmur things with feathers. One cannot utter a hunger too loudly, the Fates listen at doors and walls, their ears straining round a glass tumbler. Don’t speak your dreams too loudly, the Fates will dash them.

Nonetheless, we honoured today the hitching, fettered run of a young boy who wanted to make a difference. The fact that 35 years later thousands gather to re-enact the hopefulness of a romantic lodestar means exactly that.  A dying paladin made a difference. Despite the Fates.