text: Martin’s phone chimed with an email notification. He blinked, confused. He had set up the email a couple years back by request, but had never received one email- not even spam. He shuffled the several feet across the yellow linoleum of his tiny Manhattan kitchen and picked up the phone. Opening the email app for the second time ever, he read the subject line: *THE CALM AFTER THE STORM*. He stared numbly for a moment, taking in the message’s meeting. As his thoughts coalesced, he turned on the TV to make certain his fears: the world was ending, and nothing would ever be the same again. The creature that filled the television screen was one that fed on sadness and despair. It incited emotions within the vulnerable, and fed back on those in a vicious cycle, killing its hosts at range within hours. Its mind control powers were lesser known, but used to compel others to inflict atrocities or pain to jump start the cycle for others. And it had landed in one of the largest cities in the country. Martin went to his closet, pushing gently past the faded khakis and sweaters. Hanging in the back of the closet was a simple gray cloak, free of any logo or design. It was a light gray, the kind of departing stormclouds. He donned it over his existing khakis and sweater. No mask. He was told when he was given the cloak that he wouldn’t need it. He locked up his small, dingy apartment, and took to the street. He was the Calm once more. \*\*\* The Romanian neighborhood in Manhattan was normally relatively loud in the morning. The honking of traffic mixed with the day-to-day sounds of millions of New Yorkers going about their business. Today, it was eerily silent. Everyone shuffled along the sidewalks and through the streets, vagrant, confused looks in their eyes. The traffic was unpleasantly polite, and not a single horn or curse could be heard on the streets. It was peaceful, but it was a false pretense of peace. The creature had taken the vibrancy of the city and replaced it with numbing despair. A gentle sound of shoe scuffing on brick caught the Calm’s ear, up and behind him. Glancing up, he saw a young man standing on the lip of an old apartment building, teetering on its edge. A few bottles scattered the sidewalk at his feet. With a nod, the Calm took to the sky, lifting slowly on the breeze, rising calmly toward the man. The man hardly seemed to notice the flying man in a sweater and cape before him. He began to take a step forward. The Calm gently placed a hand on his chest. “I know you’re in pain, but this isn’t your fault. It’s not your fault. This too will pass. Sadness and despair are part of life, but they aren’t all of it. I can’t make the decision for you, and I’ll respect your choice. But you deserve to know there’s more than this, and you deserve the chance to find out. And I can help you, if you’d like.” He released his hand. The man’s eyes became less clouded, and they watered. With a sob, he stepped backwards, away from the ledge. The Calm landed and held him tight, assuring him it was okay. They talked for a moment, until the Calm heard another sound. Smiling, he handed the young man a card, and took off, heading north. \*\*\* Leiber Metro Hospital was plagued by the same eerie quietness as the streets nearby had been. The Calm walked through the sliding doors, surveying the situation. Fortunately, the staff were working. However, they all had the same hopeless look in their eyes- the one you saw from forty years of losing patients. He offered soft smiles on his way to the room where he’d heard the sound. He knocked on a door. After a moment, a small girl answered. Her eyes were red and blotchy, and she looked confused. “Who... who are you?” The Calm knelt. “I’m Martin. Can I help you?” Eyes still welling, the girl nodded, and took him in the room by the hand. An elderly woman was in a hospital bed, not stirring. A monitor by the bed emitted a blaring, continuous sound, rather than its optimistic, periodic blip. The Calm reached over and flicked off the monitor. “I’m Susie. Mom and Dad are talking to the doctors, and Grandma Joan won’t wake up.” The Calm nodded, thoughtfully. “How old are you?” “Six.” “I see. Well Susie, do you know what happens when you get very old?” “You go to sleep and you don’t wake up. My grandpa went to sleep only a few days ago.” “Yes, you go to sleep. Grandma Joan is sleeping now too. But that’s not a reason to be sad.” Susie looked up, confused. “It’s not?” “No, it’s not. Everyone has a time to wake, and a time to sleep. Your Grandma Joan lived a long and happy life, and got to meet you for six whole years. Was she a happy grandma?” Susie nodded, smiling a little. “Then that’s a good, happy life. You get the chance to live a long and happy life too, like Grandma Joan. Keep moving forward, and if it’s time to go, it’s time to go. I’m sure your Grandma Joan is in a better place. I’m sure she’s happy there too.” The room’s door opened, and a middle-aged couple walked in. Mom and Dad, the Calm presumed. They looked confused at the Calm’s presence, but walked past him and gently hugged Susie. The Calm wordlessly left the room. He had many more rooms to visit. That was, until he hear the roar that shook the building. Perhaps there was other work to do first. \*\*\* Times Square was dominated by the creature. It took up a good third of the space, black ichor dripping over its carapace, yellow eyes like headlights. Police officers stood in a semicircle around the creature, firearms drawn and pointed at a captive crowd. The crowd screamed, and the creature roared in ecstasy. The fear and despair here was palpable, and the Calm was forced to ground, landing awkwardly between the crowd and peacekeepers, rolling his ankle. The guns all snapped to him. The Calm began walking forward. “Stop, or we’ll shoot!” He ignored the command, but slowed his steps until he stopped short by five feet. The gun barrels wavered gently. “You’re better than this. You’re better than this fear of your neighbors, your citizens. You protect and serve, and this is in no way that. The creature behind you has its hooks in you. Don’t let it! You are held to a high standard! With great pow-” A gun barked, and the Calm jerked, forced to one knee. Blood trickled through the sweater, near his left elbow. He coughed, and cleared his throat. “Well, I suppose you already knew the rest.” The officers stirred, as if from a daze. A look of shame spread across the squad. One by one, they lowered their guns, and parted. No one stood between him and the creature now. It roared in challenge, and fear and despair lashed out at Martin. He staggered to his feet, and removed the cloak, using it as an impromptu tourniquet. Blearily, he could see a film crew, which had been documenting the standoff, now had their focus on him. “There’s a lot of things to be afraid of these days. War, famine, disease, crime. But not the emotions themselves. Not despair itself, not fear itself, not emptiness itself.” He began to walk forward, limping slightly from this awkward land. The creature lashed out with its tentacles, but they stopped inches from the Calm’s body. “The world doesn’t need the Avengers, or the X-Men, or the Fantastic Four for the little stuff. The Galaxy doesn’t need its Guardians every day. For most of us, there’s no Doctor Doom or Mad Titan coming to ruin our Mondays. It’s the little things every day, and a different kind of hero is needed for those fights.” He touched the creature, and it roared in surprise and confusion. Looking back at the crowd, Martin suddenly smiled brightly. “Be that kind of hero. Another definition of a hero is someone who is concerned about other people's well-being, and will go out of his or her way to help them -- even if there is no chance of a reward. That person who helps others simply because it should or must be done, and because it is the right thing to do, is indeed without a doubt, a real superhero.” He gripped the creature’s mass, focused his will against the well of despair inside of him, the crowd, everyone, and said a single word. “Excelsior.” Martin and the creature took flight, rising slowly, in spite of the creature’s roar of protest. They rose, picking up speed once they cleared the cloud cover. Two minutes later, and they were in space. Another five, and they began nearing the warm light of the nearest star. The creature’s roar turned to squawks, and its motions flailed even more rapidly. Martin had no words for now, at the end. All that mattered was the everyday folk, with their everyday lives, and their everyday problems. They could do with a little less despair, and he would gladly make this sacrifice for them. Everyone needed a little push, a little assistance now and then. His smile widening into a grin, he dove with the creature, taking them both into the bright, shining sun.