Showcase: Corona
Photograph Smile
by Libbylawrence
Later it would all seem funny that the clue she had needed to realize how her world had changed had been something so subtle as her father’s smile. After all, Alex DeWitt had so much going for her, in terms of her keen mind, travel experience and interpersonal skills, that one would have assumed the blonde photographer would have spotted some other sign. Still, she was a photographer and that, more than her role as a new heroine, defined her life. She had the eye of the photographer, and she had memories of childhood that were enshrined in those precious photos. Maybe it was natural that a beloved picture would reveal even more to the perceptive young woman than an alien power ring. In any event, she later realized exactly when the changes had occurred in all their slightly ominous subtlety.
Alex had returned from a job involving a corporate tour and two super powered villains. Now, that little description amused the lithe blonde. She had never expected that her hours of training and practice in the art of photography would eventually become merely part of the training she required in her chosen profession! Then again, those little words said a lot.
Chosen profession! I may have chosen to become a photographer. I even dreamt of it. Still, I never imagined that another more deadly role would choose me! How could I have known that my boyfriend would be given a magic ring by mistake, and that he in turn would pass it on to me! Or that I would use that ring to fight crime along with legends like the Green Lantern and other JSA members and their kids! she thought.
Alex ran a hand through her blonde hair and gently touched the photo on her nightstand. It revealed a middle-aged man with a certain air about him. He was not handsome in a conventional way. He lacked that boyish charm Kyle had possessed. He did not have the silver screen idol looks of a man like Alan Scott. Still, Alexander DeWitt had possessed a twinkle in his eye and a slightly crooked smile that let people know that he was something special. He had a vitality about him that did not fade, even when captured artificially in a photograph taken by his little girl years ago.
Alex had taken the photo of her late father when she received her first camera from him. Her mother had scolded the irrepressible man of the house for buying such an adult present for a little girl. Amanda DeWitt had frowned in consternation and sighed in resignation when Alexandra, as she was actually named, tore open the wrapping paper to reveal the expensive camera.
***
“Alex, really! A camera of that quality is not a fit present for a child!” her mother had said.
Alex DeWitt had flashed the crooked grin and swept his wife into his arms. “Now, Mandy, what would you have me do? Buy her a Barbie dream house every year? This gift may lead our little Alex into an exciting new world of possibilities. That’s the best gift you can ever give. You like it, eh, Alex?” he had said.
Alexandra, who seldom used her given name, had been thrilled. Nothing her father could ever do was ever wrong in her eyes.
“I love it, Daddy! Thank you so much! Let me take your picture!” she had squealed.
Her baby sister Aimee had pouted as she idly trailed a teddy bear along in her wake. “I’d rather have a Malibu Barbie!” whined the small child.
***
Alex smiled now as she gazed at the photo and thought of her late father. Daddy, even you did not know what kind of new world would open up to me through your gift! she thought.
***
Perhaps it had actually started in a movie theatre, where Alex and Jennie-Lynn Hayden had rushed in to catch an art house showing of the Judy Garland classic, Meet Me in St. Louis. Jennie-Lynn, alias Jade of Infinity, Inc. loved the film and adored Garland. She talked in her usual rapid way, and Alex grinned as she realized that, when Jennie was excited about a topic, she really didn’t require another speaker.
“I did Oz in school, and yet I always felt that Judy brought just as much feeling to St. Louis. That scene at the window when she sings ‘The Boy Next Door’ really sends me! If I could bring emotion like that, pathos, joy, and larger than life vitality to my acting, then I would really be somebody special!” she gushed.
Alex nudged her gently. “You will. You can’t expect to come from an apple pie-type family like the Haydens of Wisconsin and carry Garland level vulnerability around with you. Give yourself time to grow,” she urged.
Suddenly, a tall man with a gaunt body and a grim expression stood up and said, “Could you kindly stop your inane chatter? This type of rudeness in a public entertainment complex is a blatant example of the over-all decay that rots modern society like a canker!” he said in a venomous but precise tone.
As Jennie-Lynn stammered an apology, Alex watched the rather prissy man fade into the darkness of the theatre. He was frighteningly familiar to her in some way.
She forgot about him as she slipped into a pair of light green pajamas and smiled sadly as she recalled her childhood evenings from years before. Too often her dad had been away on business, and she had been forced to go to bed without his kiss goodnight. She had comforted herself with the various photos she had collected in her early, mad-but-exciting rush headlong into photography. Now she glanced at the photo from the birthday party and blinked in surprise. In the dim light of her bedroom the old photo seemed different. Some joy or sparkle was missing from the features she knew so dearly. She sat up suddenly and glanced around the room.
Funny, I didn’t recall leaving the place in such order before heading out for the trip where I met up with Buffy. Guess the housekeeping fairy is looking out for me. Even the carpet looks clean. The worn spot seems level and as thick as a new rug, she thought.
She looked once more at her father’s picture and wondered what made it look different.
***
The next day found the attractive young blonde in the offices of the magazine called Okay. She hoped to interest the gruff editor in her portfolio and find a free lance job or two.
He bit down on his cigar and said, “Your work is sloppy, Ms. DeWitt. Oh, you have potential, but you have failed to nurture it. Hard work is the only way to advance. You should bring order to your artistic vision. Tame it with a sense of how things should be. Order is vital above all else! You need that if you want to last at Okay.”
She glanced at his desk. Nothing was out of place. The paperclips were even lined up neatly. “Mr. Jameson, I think you miss the point of my vision!” she began.
He cleared his throat and said, “You need to bring control to your work. Do not darken my door until you have learned to see the world in terms of a place in need of tightly regulated control. That is the only method by which decay may be checked!”
She rose slowly and wondered about his odd tirade. As she opened the office door, she frowned at the sight of the name painted on the office door.
“Julius Black? I was certain his name was Jameson!” she said with a puzzled tone.
***
She now flew over the city in her gold and white Corona costume and enjoyed the warm sun and the sensation of freedom. The gleaming golden energy of her power ring lifted her lithe form high above the city below.
“Now this is living! How I wish daddy could have lived to see me. He would have loved the whole Corona gig. I can’t even bring myself to tell Mother or Aimee about it,” she sighed.
She frowned as her peaceful patrol turned into a sudden scene of danger. She used the ring’s energy to create a magnifying lens that revealed in minute detail the scene she had glimpsed from above. A man was rushing out of a store with the air of a man used to trouble.
She said, “Oh well! I suppose its time for this girl to prove she has some sense of order!”
She dropped downward with the ease of practice. Her slightest thought or urge directed the amazing power of the ring. It responded to her thoughts with ease. She confronted the man in his mad flight.
“Hold it, pal. I think you have something that belongs to that store. Something like their payroll!” she joked.
The handsome man had brown hair and good features. He had a dashing charm about him that appealed to her in some subtle way. He also looked familiar. She had seen him somewhere before. Most likely on a wanted poster! she said to herself.
“I’m not afraid of you. Take me in if you can!” he said in a cocky manner.
She created a golden sphere that encircled him and held him fast until she could turn him in to the police.
An office with a thin mustache and prim manner greeted her and led him away.
“Thank you for your assistance. Without people like you this world would crumble away into lawlessness and sheer chaos. Sometimes I wondered if it deserves our efforts!” he said.
She nodded silently. Weird cop. Something creepy about him. He gives me the chills!
The thin cop led away the thief and sneered as he shoved him forward. “Jordan, you did not think you could ever truly best me?” he said in a mocking tone.
Corona flew off and pondered what she had seen and heard.
I don’t know the name Jordan. I guess he was some small time punk. Still, the cop was bizarre. He spoke like the villain in some old time drama. He reminded me of the guy from the movies or like Black from Okay Magazine, thought Corona.
She shivered inside the golden energy aura that surrounded her as she saw the flash of lightning. “Must be a storm brewing. Funny how it’s coming in so precisely on the hour. I heard the forecast earlier, and that new weatherman at station QWRD predicted the storm would hit exactly at this moment. He’s good, but I doubt his Q rating will be very high. He was so stern and cold. He lacked that warmth you tend to want from weathermen!” she said.
She entered her home, and in a flash she donned her normal clothing. “You know, it may just be that I’m on the road too much, but this place doesn’t feel like home!” she said as she turned on the radio.
“Man! What kind of format is this? Instead of ‘Hits of the ’70′s’ this sounds like some type of classical music from Mars!” she smirked.
She switched channels and heard the same kind of perfectly regulated music. Even the songs with vocal accompaniment lacked any true emotion. The singers were sterile in their inhuman precision. No note was even slightly off key, but none of the songs conveyed any feeling. She turned off the radio and decided to call it a night.
She tossed and turned in nightmarish fever until the dawn broke, and she yawned wearily.
“I feel as if I did not get any rest last night. I had one nightmare after another. All those odd men I’ve seen or met lately turned up in a procession out of the Twilight Zone. Funny how they all had something in common in spite of their different appearances or occupations. Maybe I do need to get more rest. This double life is wearing thin!” she said.
She slipped into a pale peach skirt and blouse. She was used to the outfit and enjoyed the feel of the fabrics and the look it gave her. However, on this day she did not like the outfit. “This does not match. The shading is slightly off. Funny, I never even cared before. How careless of me! No wonder Jewelius Black rejected me!” she said as she returned to her uniform.
She decided to seek out another photographer to talk about her work. She knew a retired photojournalist lived down the block, and she had hoped to approach him about her work for a few weeks now. She reached his home after streaking out of her open apartment window.
“What was I thinking leaving home in broad daylight without taking a simple precaution like obscuring my exit? This is a sure way to lose my secret identity! Then again, why use one? My subjects could better know and respect me if my domicile is known to all. It really is a rather pathetic place for one such as I to dwell!” she said.
She created an outfit of perfectly matched colors and flawlessly placed lines. No hair was out of place, and her entire demeanor seemed oddly clinical. She knocked on the door and introduced herself to the old man.
“Mr. Parker, I have seen your work, and I wanted your feedback about my own. Circumstances have of late made me question my own artistic vision,” she said.
The old man ushered her inside his humble home and offered her a snack. “Would you care for milk and crackers? My old aunt always swore by it as a snack, and I’ve never lost the habit,” he said.
She frowned. “Thanks, but about my work? Give me a candid opinion, please?” she insisted.
He spread the photos across the table and began to examine them. “Oh my, I spilled some milk on that one!” he gasped.
She swept the photos off the table and stood up rapidly. “You foolish old man! How dare you damage my creations? Be careful!” she said.
She grew pale as her words were met with sincere apologies. She grasped his arm and said, “Please forgive me! I don’t know what came over me!”
He said, “I understand. I like your photos. You bring real warmth to them. Now, this one is a bit conventional, though. If you had tried a different angle and placed the morning sunlight just so, it would have been a better shot!”
Alex shrieked in anger. “Ki-Mon, you witless dolt! Be thankful that I don’t incinerate you where you stand!”
She took her collection and rushed out into the street. Her heart raced, and she placed one hand across her brow.
“What’s happening to me? Ki-Mon? Jewelius Black instead of Julius Black? What kind of language is that? I acted like a first class witch to that poor old man. Am I losing my mind?” she gasped.
***
Alex DeWitt sat in her bathtub and pondered her recent actions. She had always been levelheaded, and even during her teen years she had been the voice of reason, while Aimee had been the spoiled one. Why was she now acting so differently?
She soaked in the warm waters and considered her options. She had been the strong one when their father died. She had felt the loss deeply, but she had been able to carry his warmth, love, and presence with her as she continued on with life. She believed in him and his words from her final visit to his sick bed.
***
“Alex, I am so proud of you. You are going to make a wonderful woman when you grow up. I want you to remember that I’ll always be with you. My love will never leave you. The moments we’ve shared and the love between us will live long after this old shell ends,” he said.
She had wept over his thin form and lamented the time together cancer would deprive them of now. “Daddy, I don’t want to lose you!” she had sobbed as her body heaved in total loss and regret.
He had hushed her cries and whispered, “You won’t lose me. I’ll be in your heart and in your photos! There will be some of me in every picture you take.”
***
That statement had been so true. Alex knew that she brought her father’s vitality and energy into her work. She created images that spoke of the humanity within her subjects. It was a flawed humanity, but it was real and warm and carried with it humor and love and simple values. That was what she loved about the camera. It preserved those moments for when the subjects were no longer physically around. She did not care if men like Black valued that. Alex knew that the very thing that made her pictures special was the same humanity that her father represented in all his endearing and slightly untamed mannerisms.
She wrapped a towel around herself and walked over to the nightstand. She held up the photo and gasped.
It was wrong. The image was not the way it should have been. Oh, the man in the picture was Alex DeWitt, but it was a sterile Alex without that twinkle in the eye or that belly laugh hidden around the crooked grin.
“The smile is different! It’s cold. Almost mocking. The whole world is wrong! My apartment is too orderly. The people I meet all speak of ridding the world of chaos and bringing a controlling order to everything. Humanity is missing, too, from all I see or hear. The music was not just cold but was alien,” she said.
She held up the ring and envisioned her costume. In place of the gold and white one, a purple and blue one materialized, and she fought to turn it into the costume she knew so well.
Her features in the mirror were more angular than before, and her complexion was reddish in hue. She cried out, “Shetira jannt Korugarian!”
She realized her words had been in an alien tongue. The ring had not translated the language for her. She had spoken in this unknown tongue. She also knew instinctively now that the words and her altered physiognomy came from the world called Korugar. It existed in another dimensional realm.
A figure materialized in front of her and sneered coldly at her confusion. “You still don’t fully understand the blessings bestowed upon you, do you?” he said.
His tone was the same as that of the man in the theatre, the editor at Okay magazine, the cop, the weatherman, et cetera. He was reddish or purple hued and had a thin mustache.
“I am Sinestro, and you wield my ring. It was made for me. It was meant for me. The ring came from a dimension called Qward. Those who made it knew it was meant for me. They had made such rings for me before with my careful direction. Since they had such experience of my needs and my personality, they preset the ring to conform to my sensibilities. Oh, like all such rings of power, it is now yours. The user sets the mindset of the ring. If it speaks to you, it will speak in English. However, while you control the ring, my mental pattern in imprinted within its design. This was done to make it more readily adaptable to my will,” he said.
Alex backed away from him. “You are evil! It’s your voice, your interpretation of how the world should be that has been warping my world and me! You want total order through domination! The names like Black and Ki-Mon come from experiences you’ve had! Why, something about the man Jordan stands out too! He is an enemy of yours. I know I recalled him in some manner!” she said.
Sinestro laughed coldly and extended one elegant hand. “My dear, you may have known of him as the Green Lantern from Earth-One”
She nodded and fought for time. “I saw his photo once! That was it! He had a mask on, but he was Jordan! You can’t keep me under your influence. You almost had me. Little by little I was becoming more like you. My world was beginning to fit your desires. It was becoming cold and losing humanity. You almost made me one like you!” she said as she raised her ring and returned her costume to the gold and white of Corona. “You won’t conquer my world!” she vowed defiantly.
He laughed coldly. “This is not your world. You are in mine!”
Her eyes widened in understanding. “I’m inside the ring!”
He nodded. “At last you see through the brightest day and blackest night, eh?”
Corona said, “You brought me, or at least my mind, inside the ring when I slept. The last few days or weeks, even, have all been taking place in some world you’ve created inside the power ring. That’s why you kept popping up in various guises. I sense my body is in a coma in the world beyond the ring.”
Sinestro clapped his hands together and said, “Excellent. You make a fine pupil. Now, earn your final commendation. Tell me what I am!”
She said, “You aren’t really here. The real Sinestro is in that other universe. He may even be dead, for all I know. You are just an energy construction from within the ring. When the Qwardians made this ring for you, they preset it to be attuned to your mind and will. Thus, without even ever knowing it existed, your values and your powerful will have slowly tried to exert influence over me. You waited until I was tired from the trip with Buffy to draw me inside, but you failed in one aspect.”
Sinestro looked bored. “Do tell?”
She said, “My father’s smile. It was wrong. It lacked his sparkle. You could project yourself into my world as you did when Jennie-Lynn and I were at the movies, but that was a weak effort. A phantasm at best. It required your actually bringing my mind into this ring world for you to dominate me more fully. This world conforms to your vision, but while you could duplicate everything according to your sense of cold and clinical order, you could not give that elusive something found in things like my father’s smile or beautiful piece of music full of passion and feeling to your constructions!”
Sinestro sneered at her words. “Bah! I need nothing as fragile as the butterfly like sensibilities you prate on and on about, girl!”
She smiled and said, “Ah, but without such things, you could never control me or make me think this world was the real world. Your little seduction failed. I can exert greater control now. I can banish you back to the dim recesses of the ring’s programming by merely awakening my sleeping mind!”
She concentrated and thought of her real body, her home, her childhood memories, and of course the things missing from the ring construct’s world like her father’s real smile. She gasped and sat up in bed.
“There’s no place like home!” she said with a smile.
***
She worked next to Green Lantern later that day as their combined expert will power altered and erased the programming of the ring.
“It’s all yours now, Corona. We’ve removed the pre-programmed Sinestro sensibilities, and now it’s as much a weapon for good as you wish it to be!” said the Emerald Warrior.
Corona nodded. “I feel as if some faint taint that was always there before has been removed. Some ‘unnecessary impurity,’ you might say.”
Green Lantern smiled. “Well put. The real Sinestro may never even know that such a ring exists. He was never really here, you know.”
Corona said, “Good. I don’t think he and I would hit it off.”
