Then came September 11, 2001.
Clark was in Russia when he heard the news, working on a small farm outside of St. Petersburg. The Petrov family he was staying with gathered around their old television, watching in horror as the events unfolded. Even from halfway around the world, Clark's super-hearing picked up the screams, the chaos, the last phone calls of people saying goodbye to their loved ones. Each voice, each final "I love you," burned itself into his perfect memory.
Marina Petrov, the family's grandmother, crossed herself and wept quietly. Her husband had been a first responder at Chernobyl; she understood the courage of those running toward disaster while others fled. Clark sat beside her, his hands shaking as he tried to control his rising anguish. His superhearing brought him every crack of buckling steel, every desperate prayer, every final heartbeat.
For the first time in his life, he truly hated his powers. Because he could hear everything, could see everything with his telescopic vision, but he couldn't be everywhere at once. He couldn't save everyone. He watched as ordinary humans became heroes - firefighters climbing stairs they would never descend, office workers helping disabled colleagues evacuate, passengers on Flight 93 sacrificing themselves to save others. Their courage both inspired and haunted him.
In the days that followed, Clark witnessed something extraordinary: the world coming together in grief and solidarity. He saw flowers being laid at American embassies in countries thousands of miles from New York. He heard prayers being offered in dozens of languages. He watched as people of all faiths, all nationalities, all backgrounds reached out to help and comfort one another.
The sun crystal, which had been pulsing with increasing frequency throughout his journey, now began to glow with an intensity he had never seen before. Its light seemed to respond to his emotional state, brightening with his grief and determination. In his heart, Clark knew it was time. He had seen humanity at its worst and its best, had witnessed its capacity for both hatred and love, destruction and creation.
He said goodbye to the Petrovs, telling them he needed to return home to America. They hugged him tightly, pressing food and warm clothes into his hands. "Your country needs all its children now," Marina said, kissing his cheek. "Go with God."
Clark took a series of buses north to Murmansk, then booked passage on a fishing trawler heading into the Arctic waters. The crystal led him steadily northward, its pulsing growing stronger with each mile. As the boat pushed through the ice-filled waters, he stood at the bow, remembering everything he had witnessed over the past three years: the laugh of children in a Mexican village, the song of a grandmother in Kenya, the blessing of a monk in Thailand, the tears of a survivor in Sarajevo.
When the crystal's glow became almost blinding, even through the lead-lined pouch, Clark knew he had reached his destination. He thanked the boat's captain and crew, then waited until they were safely out of sight before stepping onto the vast ice field. The crystal now pulsed with a steady, bright rhythm that seemed to match his heartbeat. Something deep within him knew exactly what to do. He raised the crystal above his head, and for a moment, the entire world seemed to hold its breath.
The crystal flared with blinding light, and the ice beneath his feet began to shift and change. Massive crystals erupted from the ground, growing and intersecting in impossible geometric patterns. The structure that emerged was neither entirely Kryptonian nor entirely Earth-like, but a perfect fusion of both - much like Clark himself. The crystals sang as they grew, a harmonic resonance that stirred something in his genetic memory.
The Fortress of Solitude took shape around him like a living thing, each new crystal growth purposeful and precise. The main chamber soared hundreds of feet into the air, its crystalline walls refracting the Arctic sunlight into rainbow cascades. Smaller chambers branched off in every direction, each serving a specific purpose that Clark somehow instinctively understood.
To his left, a massive library began to form, its walls lined with crystal matrices containing the collective knowledge of twenty-eight known galaxies. To his right, a medical bay emerged, equipped with technology centuries beyond Earth's current capabilities. Ahead, a central control room took shape, its crystalline consoles complex yet somehow familiar to his eyes.
As Clark stood marveling at the transformation, a soft humming filled the air. From recessed alcoves in the crystalline walls, several figures emerged, gliding smoothly across the floor. Their metallic bodies gleamed with an iridescent sheen, each one unique in design yet clearly part of a cohesive whole. These were no ordinary robots – they moved with a grace and purpose that spoke of advanced artificial intelligence.
The first to approach him was a tall, elegant figure with smooth, flowing lines that reminded Clark of Art Deco sculptures. Its head bore a distinct crest that somehow echoed the House of El symbol. "Greetings, Kal-El," it said in a voice that was neither masculine nor feminine, but carried a warmth that surprised him. "I am Kelex-Prime, chief custodian of the Fortress of Solitude. We are honored to serve the last son of Krypton."
A shorter, more robust robot moved forward next. Its form was clearly designed for maintenance and repair work, with multiple appendages that could reconfigure themselves for different tasks. "I am Tor-Van," it introduced itself, its voice carrying a practical, efficient tone. "My primary function is maintaining the Fortress's systems and ensuring all technology operates at peak efficiency."
From another alcove emerged a sleek, almost ethereal-looking robot whose surface seemed to shimmer with constantly changing patterns of light. "I am Data," it said, its voice melodious and clear. "I serve as the primary interface for the Fortress's knowledge banks and assist in processing and analyzing information from over one hundred thousand worlds."
Two more robots appeared, moving in perfect synchronization. They were identical in design, their forms suggesting medical expertise. "We are the Med-Units," they spoke in harmony. "I am Val-Or," said the first, "and I am Kara-Vo," said the second. "We maintain the medical facilities and stand ready to provide any necessary care or analysis."
A final robot, smaller than the others but emanating an air of importance, approached last. Its design was unique, featuring what appeared to be crystal growths integrated into its metallic frame. "I am Vex-El," it said, its voice carrying an almost sage-like quality. "I oversee the Fortress's growth and adaptation. Through me, this sanctuary will evolve to meet your changing needs."
Clark watched in amazement as each robot took its place in a semicircle around him. Despite their clearly artificial nature, there was something deeply familiar about them, as if they were extensions of his Kryptonian heritage given form. "You've been waiting for me," he said, not quite a question.
"Since the moment of our creation," Kelex-Prime confirmed. "Your father, Jor-El, designed each of us with specific purposes, but all with one overarching goal – to help you understand and embrace both your Kryptonian heritage and your unique destiny."
"We are more than mere servitors," Tor-Van added, its practical tone softening slightly. "We are your companions and guides in this sanctuary. Each of us carries a portion of Krypton's legacy, programmed to help you access and understand it when you are ready."
As if to demonstrate, Data's surface rippled with information streams. "Would you like to begin with an overview of the Fortress's capabilities? Or perhaps you have specific questions about your heritage?"
The Med-Units moved forward slightly. "We should first establish baseline readings," Val-Or suggested. "Your unique physiology—"
"—requires careful monitoring to fully understand your developing abilities," Kara-Vo finished.
"All in good time," Vex-El interjected gently. "The young master may need a moment to process all of this." The small robot turned to Clark. "The Fortress responds to your thoughts and needs, Kal-El. We are here to facilitate that connection, not to overwhelm you with it."
Clark walked through the growing structure in awe, his new companions spreading out around him with practiced efficiency. In one room, he found what appeared to be a zoo of sorts, though instead of containing actual animals, it held perfect holographic representations of creatures from countless worlds, including extinct species from Krypton. Data moved to a nearby console, its surface shimmering as it prepared to provide detailed information about any specimen that caught Clark's interest.
Another chamber contained a complete molecular fabrication system, capable of creating anything from food to clothing to spare parts for the Fortress's systems. Tor-Van demonstrated its capabilities by quickly fabricating a simple crystal sculpture, explaining how the system could be used for everything from daily necessities to emergency equipment.
The armory particularly caught his attention - not for its weapons, though some were present, but for its defensive systems. Force field generators, atmospheric shields, and other protective technologies lined the walls. Everything was designed with protection and preservation in mind, not destruction. Kelex-Prime stood nearby, ready to explain each system's purpose and ethical applications.
In what would become his personal quarters, Clark found a chamber that adapted its environment to match his thoughts and memories. With a slight focus, he could make the walls show him the Kansas sunset, or the view from the highest peak in the Himalayas, or the streets of any city he had visited in his travels.
As he explored, the crystal consoles came to life, displays showing him the Fortress's systems coming online. One by one, backup generators powered up, atmospheric regulators activated, and security systems initialized. The entire structure hummed with energy yet remained completely invisible to any Earth-based detection systems.
Finally, Clark returned to the main chamber, where a crystalline pedestal had formed at its center. He knew what to do. Taking the command key, he placed it into the slot that seemed made for it. The crystal merged with the structure, and suddenly the chamber was filled with light.
The hologram of Jor-El materialized, and though it had been three years since their last communion, the sight of his father's image brought that familiar warmth of recognition. This was the presence that had guided him through so many crucial moments of discovery about his Kryptonian heritage.
"My son," Jor-El said, his voice carrying both authority and affection. "I see you have finally found your way here."
"Yes, father," Clark replied, his voice thick with emotion. "Though I wish the circumstances were different." He began to tell Jor-El about September 11th, about hearing the final moments of so many lives, about feeling helpless despite all his power.
"I could hear them all," he said, the words pouring out. "Every prayer, every goodbye, every last breath. And I couldn't save them. What good are these powers if I can't be there when people need me most?"
Jor-El's hologram regarded him with understanding. "You have spoken of such feelings before, Kal-El, in our previous conversations. But now you have witnessed firsthand both the darkness and light that dwells within humanity. Tell me what you have learned in your years among them."
Clark paced the crystal floor, gathering his thoughts. "Humans are capable of both incredible cruelty and amazing kindness," he said finally. "I've seen them destroy rainforests for profit and risk their lives to protect endangered species. I've watched them build walls between nations and then tear them down in the name of unity. They wage war, yes, but they also create art of such beauty it brings tears to my eyes. They're contradictory, complex, frustrating... and wonderful."
"And what of your powers?" Jor-El asked. "How have you used them during your journey?"
"Carefully," Clark replied. "Subtly. I helped where I could - prevented accidents, saved lives when possible - but always in ways that wouldn't reveal my abilities. But after what I just witnessed..." He looked up at his father's image. "I'm beginning to think that's not enough anymore."
Jor-El nodded. "You have grown wise, my son. Your mother and I hoped you would come to love Earth and its people, but you have exceeded all our expectations. Your time among humans hasn't just educated you - it has enhanced you in ways I never anticipated."
A holographic display appeared between them, showing detailed scans of Clark's cellular structure. "Your Kryptonian cells absorb and process solar radiation far more efficiently than our calculations predicted. Living under Earth's yellow sun since infancy has enhanced your potential far beyond what any Kryptonian has ever achieved."
The display shifted, showing comparisons between Clark's current abilities and projected Kryptonian norms. "You are stronger, faster, more resilient than we imagined possible. But more importantly, your heart has grown to encompass two worlds. You understand both the greatness and the flaws of humanity, and you love them not despite their imperfections, but because of them."
Clark walked through the holographic display, watching the data streams flow around him. "The Fortress is incredible," he said. "But how can I use it to help protect Earth? Even with all this technology, I can't be everywhere at once."
"No," Jor-El agreed, "you cannot. But perhaps that is not what Earth needs most right now. The tragedy you witnessed showed you humanity's capacity for hatred, yes, but it also showed you their capacity for heroism. Ordinary humans risked and gave their lives to save others. They didn't have your powers, but they had something just as valuable - courage and compassion."
The hologram waved its hand, and the chamber filled with images from Clark's journey - the farmers in Mexico, the tribe in Brazil, the monks in Tibet, the families in Russia. "You have lived among them, learned their ways, shared their struggles and their triumphs. You understand them in a way no other Kryptonian ever has."
"The Fortress will serve as your sanctuary and your command center," Jor-El continued, gesturing to the various chambers. "Here you will find the knowledge of twenty-eight galaxies, technology centuries ahead of Earth's current capabilities, and systems to monitor global threats. But its greatest purpose is to help you bridge your two worlds - to be both Kal-El of Krypton and Clark Kent of Earth."
A new door crystallized in the chamber wall, leading to a room Clark hadn't seen before. Following Jor-El's gesture, he entered to find what appeared to be a meditation chamber. The walls pulsed with a soft, golden light that reminded him of the Kansas sunrise.
"This chamber will help you further develop your abilities," Jor-El explained. "Not just your physical powers, but your mental and spiritual capabilities as well. The monks in Tibet taught you to control your senses - here you will learn to expand them even further, to process more information without becoming overwhelmed, to extend your consciousness while remaining grounded in your physical form."
Clark sat in the center of the chamber, feeling the energy flow through him. It reminded him of his meditation sessions in the Himalayas, but with an added dimension he couldn't quite describe. "I feel... connected," he said softly. "To the Fortress, to the Earth, to... everything."
"As you should," Jor-El replied. "The Fortress is not just a building, Kal-El. It is a living extension of your Kryptonian heritage, adapted to serve your unique purpose on Earth. It will grow and evolve with you, helping you become whatever your adopted world needs you to be."
They spent hours exploring the Fortress's capabilities. Clark learned how to access its vast databases, how to operate its environmental systems, how to use its monitoring capabilities without infringing on human privacy. The robotic servitors demonstrated their various functions, from maintenance to medical care to manufacturing.
In the fabrication chamber, Jor-El showed him how to create materials that were virtually indestructible yet light as silk. "For when you are ready," his father said mysteriously, though Clark understood the implication. Someday, he would need more than just his powers to help humanity.
Finally, they returned to the main chamber. "There is one more gift I must give you," Jor-El said. "You have floated, glided, but you have never truly flown. It is time for you to master that ability."
Clark followed his father's hologram to an outdoor platform that had formed during their explorations. The Arctic wind whipped around them, but the cold didn't bother him. He had attempted flight before, but always in secret, always holding back for fear of being seen.
"Flying isn't about pushing against gravity," Jor-El explained. "It's about harmony with the forces around you. Your cells already naturally repel Earth's gravitational field - that's why you can float. True flight comes when you learn to direct that energy consciously."
Clark's first attempts were awkward and uncertain. He shot straight up into the air, then plummeted back down, creating small craters in the ice. Each time he fell, he got up and tried again. Jor-El's hologram watched patiently, offering advice and encouragement.
"Don't fight the air," his father suggested. "Feel how it moves around you. Let your body's energy flow like water, not strike like a fist."
Hour after hour, Clark practiced. The sun set and rose again, painting the ice in shades of pink and gold. Finally, something clicked. Instead of trying to force himself through the air, he let his energy flow naturally. Suddenly he was soaring, really soaring, for the first time in his life.
The joy was indescribable. Clark flew loop-de-loops around the fortress's spires, dove through clouds, skimmed the surface of the ocean. His laughter echoed across the Arctic wasteland. This was what he had been meant for - not just the power of flight itself, but the pure joy of it, the freedom to use his abilities to their fullest potential.
When he finally landed back on the platform, his face was flushed with excitement. "That was incredible!" he exclaimed to Jor-El's hologram, feeling for a moment like a little boy showing off for his father.
Jor-El smiled warmly. "You are ready now, my son. You understand your heritage, your capabilities, and most importantly, your purpose. But I sense there is somewhere else you need to be."
Clark nodded, thinking of the farmhouse in Kansas, of his parents' faces, of Krypto waiting faithfully. "I need to see my family," he said. "And... I want to go to college, to study journalism. I think I can help people that way too, by telling their stories, by bringing truth to light."
"A noble pursuit," Jor-El approved. "The pen can indeed be as mighty as any power we possess. Go then, my son. Return to those who first taught you love and justice. The Fortress will be here when you need it, and so will I."
"Thank you, father," Clark said softly. "For everything. For giving me not just life, but purpose."
"You found your purpose yourself, Kal-El," Jor-El replied, his image beginning to fade. "All we did was give you the chance to become who you were always meant to be."
Clark took one last look around the Fortress, at the robots still going about their work, at the incredible technology that would help him protect his adopted world. Then he turned his face south, toward home, and lifted off into the golden Arctic morning.
The journey of Clark Kent was ending. The legend of Superman was about to begin.