Author: Scott Adamson

Clancy Orion picked up the Big Zac tomato and raised his sunglasses to get a clearer look. It was orange-red and firm to the touch, so he sniffed it, nodded approvingly, and then placed it in his basket along with the other, smaller tomatoes.

He had made it into Vic’s Victuals without incident, and his goal was to inconspicuously navigate the self-checkout aisle and head to the exit. It was an early Wednesday morning, and only a handful of people were in the grocery store. Yet – as was almost always the case when he ventured out in public – even his shades and black dad cap weren’t enough to conceal his identity. This time it wasn’t a customer who recognized him, but an employee stationed near the baskets and carts.

“Hey, I know you,” said the worker, flashing a big smile. “You’re Captain Hysterical! I’d recognize you anywhere – even in sunglasses.”

Orion was  5’7, pale to the point of being almost transparent, and had a long, hooked nose. These days, his curly red hair was closely cropped, unlike the bushy locks he sported while picking up the name “Captain Hysterical.”

That title was earned as was walking through the neighborhood park near his home two years earlier. A child’s birthday party was taking place near the playground when a drunk driver lost control of a fast-moving automobile. The vehicle came barreling towards the kids but Orion stepped in front of it – his outstretched arms crumpling the front end until it looked like an accordion.

The feat was beyond belief, except the party was being recorded by several cellphone cameras (and one professional videographer) who caught Orion’s heroism as it happened.

When first responders arrived on the scene Orion explained that it must have been a case of “hysterical strength,” a phenomenon in which humans display incredible physical power when they find themselves in high adrenaline situations.

A quick checkup by the paramedics revealed no injuries to Orion and nothing unusual about his vitals.

“Man, I remember seeing that all over the TV and internet,” the employee continued, stepping closer as Orion scanned his tomatoes. “A lotta people thought it was fake – still do, I’ll bet. But I don’t think it was. Course if it was, you can tell me … I can keep a secret.”

Orion shook his head.

“It was just a freak thing,” he said, hastily putting his fruit in a plastic bag and tugging at his receipt as it slowly dispensed from the slot. “Never happen again in a million years. Anyway, I gotta run.”

“Sure, sure … I’ll bet you can run fast, too. You know, there was an Olympic guy a few years back who raced a horse. You ever thought about racing a horse? If you can crush a car, you can outrun a horse. Well, maybe not Secretariat …”

Orion said nothing as he walked out the door, but quickly noticed a man in a tank top staring at him.

“Hey,” he yelled. “Captain Hysterical! What do you know about them chemtrails? Are they the reason my mother-in-law thinks she’s been reincarnated as Honey Boo Boo?”

“Sorry, buddy,” he said, rushing past the man as he made a beeline to his Volvo. “I can’t stop now … gotta go.”

Peace has been hard to come by ever since the incident. The first few weeks he was bombarded by media from all over the world, wanting to profile the planet’s “real” superhero. He had to change his number countless times to avoid calls, and as he pulled his car onto the highway, he was traveling toward his seventh apartment in 24 months.

His job as a data entry clerk was one of the few times he could be anonymous, mainly because his company was staffed by introverts. His coworkers didn’t ask many questions, and for that he was grateful.

Still, it was nearly impossible to escape the spotlight. There were some podcasters convinced he was possessed  by demons, while other insisted his heroics were the product of a carefully orchestrated hoax perpetrated by Quakers.

A congresswoman from Georgia even insisted he was a Communist robot, and demanded hearings.

However, as he neared the entrance to his apartment complex, he spotted a familiar figure standing on the steps leading up to his unit.

“Circinus?”

“Orion,” answered the visitor, who had just arrived from Wolf 1061c. “Good to see you again, my friend. I’ve had some meetings with the Council of Elders, and overall they’re quite pleased with your work here on Earth.”

Orion reached into his bag and offered Circinus a tomato.

“No, my inoculation is good for 72 Earth hours. You need the folate and vitamin C, and since it’s the only food here compatible with your digestive tract, you need to keep them for yourself.”

Orion bit into the Big Zac and looked toward the sky.

“Do you think they’ll allow me to return soon? This whole Captain Hysterical thing is my fault and I apologize for getting exposed like that; I realize I’m just here to blend in and observe, and should’ve made myself invisible during that playground episode. You know what, though? I realize it’s forbidden, but sometimes I wish I could just tell everyone I’m an alien life form who has capabilities beyond their comprehension ,,, just go ahead and be honest with them, which is something they aren’t used to. Regardless, I’ve learned much about them during my decade here, and I should have a recommendation for the Elders soon.”

Circinus put his hand on Orion’s shoulder.

“So … from what you’ve gathered so far, are they worth saving?”

“The children are … they’re unspoiled and so full of hope. And the animals make me smile. So many varieties … so pure in their purpose.”

“But?”

“But, the adult humans seem to be marching backward. I just don’t know if the current crop can be salvaged. On the other hand, they’ve learned to cultivate some really fine tomatoes.”