By SAMUEL HAWKINS

Chapter 1:  City of Tomorrow

Time narrowed, stood still, then blossomed in a collage of boundless color.  Space inverted, then shuddered as it was fractured by a blatant defiance of nature’s speed limit.  Reality smeared, as the electromagnetic spectrum was Doppler-shifted beyond even his perceptions.

Briefly, Superboy was certain that his feet were at least four hundred years from his head.  For an unpleasant moment, he understood why Ma Kent hated to ride in the back seat of a car.

Then, suddenly, he was through the Time Barrier.  Like a newborn baby, he burst into the future.  Below him, gleaming like a bright and shining star, lay Metropolis of the 30th century.

Immediately, Superboy shook his head to clear away the cobwebs of his thousand-year leap.  Time travel was still the most difficult trick in his ever-expanding repertoire, though it was getting easier.  This was time trip number seven for him, and thanks both to his increasing experience and a suggestion from a new friend, his discomfort with the procedure had decreased to little more than what most ordinary people would feel after a cross-country flight.  The improvement from his first journey through time was monumental.  Then, he’d sat motionless in the 18th century for close to an hour just to regain his bearings and stop his head from spinning.  For a while, he’d thought he might even throw up.

It was so much better now.  Soon, he hoped, he might even be able to take passengers.  Ma wouldn’t do it, but Pa might, and Lana and Pete would flip at the chance.  And of course, he owed a trip to Mr. Asimov, since he was the one who’d suggested in the first place that defiance of the bounds of time might be within the means of the young Kryptonian.

Superboy dipped towards the majestic capital of both Earth and the United Planets and took a quick x-ray look at the master clock in the Time Institute.  Precision timing was still a bit of a problem for him, but he was getting better at that too.  Only a few minutes early for the meeting, he determined.  As he hadn’t seen much of the 30th century on his two earlier trips here, he decided to spend the time getting in a little sightseeing.

On his first trip here, he’d been too busy jumping through phony hoops during his initiation into the group of super-powered teens known as the Legion of Super-Heroes. During his second journey, his time had been monopolized by the flock of historians who’d peppered him with questions at every turn.  He’d done his best to answer them, but it did become a bit tedious after a while.  He was determined that this trip would be different.  Nothing would occupy him but the Legion’s monthly meeting, a quick mission or two if necessary, hanging out with his new friends, and learning more about the remarkable advances humanity had made over the millennium.

Nothing, he was certain, would prevent this from being a great weekend.

Turning his attention toward the future that was now his present, he began his tour.  Past the Presidential Palace, past the now aptly named Galaxy Communications complex, past the intriguing but necessarily avoided Superman Museum, the Boy of Steel flew a long, lazy spiral around the city of tomorrow.  It was, he soon decided, breathtaking.  So active, yet so efficiently organized, the area was a remarkable mix of modern city planning and historical preservation.

The plentitude of sights and sounds was nearly overwhelming to someone accustomed to the quiet life of a small town, yet Superboy found himself at ease here.  His comfort puzzled him, until he recalled that he hadn’t always been a small-town boy.  The similarities between this century and the Krypton of his earliest years were provoking a kind of second-hand nostalgia in him.  It would be easy to lose himself here, he realized.  He also realized that it was nearly time for the meeting.  Cutting across the memorial to the Veterans of the Second American Revolution, he increased his speed and headed directly for Legion headquarters.

He dropped into the courtyard outside the rocket-shaped clubhouse promptly on schedule, and was pleased to find that the Legionnaires were out in force to greet him.  They were all here.  Cosmic Boy, Lightning Lad, Saturn Girl, Chameleon Boy, Triplicate Girl, Brainiac 5, Sun Boy, Phantom Girl, Colossal Boy, Shrinking Violet, Bouncing Boy, and Invisible Kid, all beaming brightly at their distinguished member from the past.

A large crowd of onlookers had also gathered to await his arrival.  They were quickly on him, a multitude of hands and tentacles suddenly reaching out to touch him.  The attention made Superboy uncomfortable, but he tried his best to comply with their requests.  As the Legionnaires stood patiently by, Superboy spent a few hectic minutes signing autographs, donating scent traces, and allowing his electromagnetic field to be recorded.  When one being asked for a cell sample, though, the Legion’s leader moved in.

"All right folks," Cosmic Boy said in a voice ringing with an authority far exceeding his fifteen years, "that’s enough.  Superboy is here on important Legion business.  Let him through."

The crowd groaned a bit, but quickly dispersed when they saw a growing Colossal Boy, a sparking Lightning Lad, and a Chameleon Boy-turned Zoonian Spider-Dog headed their way.  Cosmic Boy watched until the three Legionnaires had ushered the crowd safely away, then turned to Superboy.  "Gotta watch out for those Centaurians, Superboy," the young master of magnetism said.  "They’re clone brokers."  With a laugh, he added, "And we don’t need an army of you running around, do we?"

Superboy laughed in return, though to him, cloning was just a science fiction fantasy.  "It’s great to see you," Cosmic Boy said as shook the hand of the newest Legionnaire.  Superboy returned the handshake eagerly, noting that of all his new teammates, Cosmic Boy, amateur historian that he was, seemed to be the only one who regularly practiced the ritual greeting.  Somewhen in the last thousand years, probably in some plague-stricken era, it must have fallen out of favor.  "How was the trip?"

Superboy nodded and smiled.  "Not bad at all.  Brainiac 5 was right.  A little less torque through the seventh dimension really does smooth out the whole ride."

"Well," Cosmic Boy gushed, "that’s our Brainy."  Then the Legion leader turned towards the rest of his team.  Superboy noticed that they were hanging back in an almost … formal manner.  "Well, guys," Cosmic Boy said, "come on over.  He’s here."

With that encouragement, the Legionnaires quickly gathered around their new teammate in a manner almost reminiscent of the recently dispersed crowd.  "Thanks for coming," Invisible Kid said.

"Great to see you," Sun Boy said with a gentle punch to the Boy of Steel’s shoulder.

"Hi, Superboy," Triplicate Girl - or at least, one of her - said with a smile.  The other two just giggled and smiled.

"Hi everyone," Superboy said enthusiastically as he exchanged greetings with the young heroes.  As they headed inside the clubhouse to begin the monthly meeting, Superboy couldn’t help but grin.  It was great to be with other kids who understood what it was like to have super-powers.  Especially ones who were a great bunch of kids on top of that.

No doubt about it, he thought with a feeling of anticipation.  This was going to be a great weekend.

Chapter 2:  Mind Games

It was early the next afternoon.  Superboy sat alone in the quarters the Legionnaires had provided for him, his chin resting glumly on his hand.  His thoughts were not cheerful.

What a terrible weekend!

What had he been thinking in coming here!

How he couldn’t wait to go home!

And never come back?

His gloomy reverie was broken by a gentle buzz.  He sighed, stood from the bed, and walked to the door.  He was slightly surprised to find Saturn Girl.

"Hi," she said.

"Oh," he replied, "hi.  Uh … can I help you?"

The girl from Titan almost smiled.  "Well, since you’re the new one here, I think that’s supposed to be my line, but actually you can.  I need to talk to you."

"Oh," Superboy said, "uh … sure.  You want to go down to the rec room?"

"Actually, we need to talk in private, if you don’t mind.  May I come in?"

Superboy cast a furtive glance behind him into the small room.  "Oh … sure … I mean … if you want to."

His sudden uneasiness puzzled her until she remembered who he was.  The co-ed accommodations of Legion headquarters had been a bit of an adjustment for her too, she recalled, and 30th century Titan was far more permissive than 20th century Smallville.  She smiled at his awkwardness, finding it somewhat … sweet.  "Thanks," she said as she entered.  "Are your quarters okay?"

"Sure," Superboy said as he offered her a seat, "the room’s great."

"Good, good," she said as she sat.  "So, is everything okay?  You finding your way around all right?"

Superboy nodded.  "Oh … sure.  Everything’s … great.  It’s really … great here."

"That’s … good," Saturn Girl said, suddenly a bit uncomfortable.  She didn’t need her telepathy to know that something was troubling him.  Still, she couldn’t pry.  "Well, let me know if I can do anything to help you.  I mean that."  The Boy of Steel nodded politely, but didn’t say anything.  "Well, I guess we should get down to business," Saturn Girl said.  "What I wanted to talk to you about is your memory.  Specifically, what you remember of the 30th century when you return to the past."

"Oh.  Uh, what exactly do you mean?"

"We need to make sure that your knowledge of the future doesn’t somehow disrupt the natural flow of history."

"Oh," he said, "I see," and, clever boy that he was, he did.  "Well, don’t worry. I’m not going to be stopping by the Superman Museum or anything.  I have no interest in knowing the details of my future life."

"That’s good," Saturn Girl explained, "but it’s still a problem. Even if you don’t know specifics, you still know enough to be dangerous.  For instance, since you know that there is a Superman Museum in this time, you know that you live long enough to grow up to be Superman.  And since they don’t put up museums for just anyone, you know that you live long enough to make a great name for yourself.  Knowledge like that could cause you to … oh, I don’t know, not take some threat seriously enough.  Not try hard enough when you really need to.  Now, Brainiac 5 assures us that the past can’t be changed, but … well, let’s just say that we don’t want to take that risk."

"I see," Superboy said grimly.  "So … what?  Should I just leave here and never come back?"

One of Imra Ardeen’s eyebrows rose at the extreme nature of his solution.  "Uh … no.  Nothing that drastic is required.  That wouldn’t solve the problem of what you already know anyway.  No, I think I can fix it so that this isn’t a problem for you anymore."

"Oh.  Uh, what do you want to do?"

"I’d like to try to establish a set of non-conscious protocols in your brain.  Post-hypnotic suggestions, they’d have probably called them in your time.  I think I can make it so that whenever you return to your own time period, you automatically forget anything about your future that you learned here."

Superboy didn’t seem to immediately warm to the notion.  "Well," he said slowly, "I don’t know about that."

Saturn Girl suddenly felt the need to sell him on the procedure.  "I think it’s the only way that you won’t have to worry about knowing something you shouldn’t.  Besides, I’m sure that you’ll do lots of time traveling in your career.  Won’t something like this be helpful to you?"

Superboy was quiet for a moment as he considered the proposition.  Reluctantly, he said, "I suppose you’re right."  He paused, then said, "Okay then.  If you think it’s necessary.  What do I need to do?"

"Just relax," the young Titanian said.  "I’ll do all the work."  She leaned forward, reached for his head, then paused to say, "May I?"  He nodded his assent, and she reached out and lightly touched his temples.

The natives of Titan are almost universally regarded as the greatest telepaths in the galaxy.  This status has caused some to regard them as mystics, akin to the natives of Naltor or Zerox.  Mention this notion to a Titanian, however, and he or she will howl with laughter.  For them, telepathy is a completely natural process.  Titanians are the greatest telepaths in the galaxy because they are the greatest neuroanatomists, gifted with an intuitive and direct understanding of brain structure and function, and the ability to restructure it.  Far from being mystical, their telepathy is a strictly physical undertaking.

So when Saturn Girl made contact with the brain of the Boy of Steel, she responded with a small yelp and pitched backwards.  Though Imra Ardeen had been identified as a prodigy in exoneurology at a tender age, nothing in her decade of training at the Titan Academy had prepared her for contact with the brain of a Kryptonian under the influence of a yellow sun.  The pace at which it functioned was dizzying, the speed serving as much as a barrier against telepathic intrusion as the natural defenses that most beings possessed.

Superboy reached forward and grabbed her before she could fall.  "Are you okay?" he asked urgently.

She nodded.  "I’m fine … just need … to … catch my breath."  She paused to rest for a moment, then said admiringly, "Your brain.  It’s so … fast."

"Oh," Superboy said.  "Sorry."

Saturn Girl smiled broadly.  "Oh, don’t be!  It’s really quite remarkable.  Half the researchers on Titan would give their right lobes for a chance to study it.  It’s really … quite remarkable."

"Oh.  Thank you.  Uh … does this mean you won’t be able to perform the procedure?"

She shook her head.  "No, I still think I can do it.  Just give me a minute to think of how."  He was more than willing to do so, but she required only a few seconds.  "You converse at a normal pace, so you’ve obviously developed a set of dampening lags in your verbal feedback loops.  Maybe if I go in through your language centers, rather than at the basic input/output level, I’ll find a pace I can handle."  She reached for him again.  "Here we go," she said.

Steeling herself for the rush of activity, she again attempted entry, only this time with the forceful caution of one attempting to cross a raging river.  Even then, it was a fight to maintain her equilibrium, to prevent her consciousness from being washed away by the torrent that was Superboy’s mind.  There were, she knew immodestly, few telepaths that would be able to even attempt this. ...