WELCOME TO BETA CITY
Beta City sits on the shores of a post-cataclysmic Lake Erie, near where the city of Cleveland once stood. The text below is from the introduction to POW!ERFUL TALES, giving some of the history of the superhero capital of the world:
Excerpted from The Superhuman Shield: Extraordinary Individuals and the Collective Human Organism
by Gladstone MacComber
In Beta City, May 26th is always a day of remembrance, even when Memorial Day falls elsewhere for the rest of the United States. In Beta City, May 26th is always Flood Day.
On that day in 2001, Lake Erie unexpectedly flooded. Somehow the shallowest of the Great Lakes permanently overflowed its banks, inundating the city of Cleveland and much of northern Ohio. Thousands perished in the flood and its aftermath. The disaster was never fully explained; theories varied from freak seiches to terrorist attacks to a karmic comeuppance for pollution. Eventually, the scientific community agreed that some kind of heretofore unknown seismic event caused the lake’s expansion. The portion of Cleveland remaining above water became known as Lightfoot Island. Camp Beta, built on the shores of the newly-expanded Lake Erie as a temporary shelter for refugees, quickly became the permanent settlement now known as Beta City.
Four years later, waterborne disaster struck the United States again as Hurricane Katrina devastated New Orleans. Over eighty percent of the city became flooded, and nearly two thousand are known to have died in the hurricane, the floods and the humanitarian tragedy that followed.
New Orleans saw its population decrease by more than half, and has yet to fully recover. Beta City, on the other hand, started at zero but is today a thriving metropolis, larger than Cleveland at its pre-flood size.
Why? Why should a city only partially flooded repopulate more slowly than a place built up literally from nothing?
The people of Beta City have had more time to recover, certainly. But their return came almost instantly, and in spite of a lack of understanding of the flood’s causes that continues to this day. No one can guarantee that another anomalous seismic event will not wreak further havoc, and there is no known way to guard against a reoccurrence. But census numbers there show immediate, unprecedented growth that simply has not reoccurred in New Orleans, where stronger levees and a more responsive government can at least mitigate future disasters.
Beta City's superhuman population is almost universally cited as the difference. Beta is well-known, of course, as the unofficial “superhuman capital of the world.” And with the assistance of superhumans, many novel construction techniques and materials were pioneered. Beta City rose more quickly than any permanent community in modern memory. But while the superhuman community did flock to Beta City in the wake of its disaster, most did not actually reside there until after the city’s recovery was well underway. So they alone cannot be responsible for the amazing population explosion on the shores of Lake Erie.
Something unique has happened in Beta City, but beyond the obvious – the massively disproportionate superhuman presence – no one seems to agree on just what the cause may be.
Police Chief Ward Fitzpatrick, a holdover from the administration of former Mayor Frank Giuseppe, gives his explanation with a mustachioed chuckle. “People keep coming here because it's safe – because we put the bad guys in jail,” he said. “It doesn't take superguys in capes and pantyhose to get the job done. You just have to have the will to act, no matter the consequences. Mayor Giuseppe knew when to let the dogs off the chain. This new lady, we'll see.
Sandra Ellington was elected Beta City's mayor in 2006 in a surprise victory over Giuseppe's law-and-order incumbency. Ellington, a charismatic but relatively inexperienced politician, ran on a campaign cautiously supportive of the city's vigilante heroes. “It's true that part of the reason Beta City has flourished is that we've kept our people safe,” Mayor Ellington admitted, in a nod to the more extreme law enforcement tactics of her predecessor. “It's also true that the time has come to take a look at how we treat the people who volunteer to risk their lives to protect us. Look at the contributions our superhuman protectors have made since 2001. They deserve better than to be classified as outlaw vigilantes.”
While some claim that Ellington owes a debt to unregistered superhumans for stepping in when supposedly-confidential registration information was used to neutralize police-approved heroes, Ellington dismisses such criticism quickly. “That's just the paranoid conservative-dominated media franchise talking,” she said. “The only obligation I'm trying to satisfy is my duty to keep the people safe without trampling on their rights.”
At least one of Mayor Ellington's critics can't be classified as part of the “conservative-dominated media franchise.” Grant Warren, a former campaign aide to the moderate Ellington, has dramatically parted ways with his former employer.
“If more people are coming to Beta City, it's either to serve as some kind of disposable substrate for the next stage of evolution, or because people are just stupid,” Warren insists. “Why would anyone want to live here? Do you know what insurance rates are like in a city that's regularly trampled by giant monsters?”
According to a high-level member of the Mayor's staff, Warren's perspective shift has something to do with being badly beaten and strung from a lamppost by a silver-clad vigilante, all for trying to buy a small amount of marijuana. After he was found and cut down by the police, Warren was prosecuted and is still on probation.
When his legal history is brought into question, Mr. Warren becomes even more vehement. “It's all because of the damned superheroes, you know,” Warren said. “Everything. They bring it all with them. The bastards act like they're saving us, but without their enablers, their so-called villains, they have no reason to exist. Just living in the same city with them is a mortal danger to us normal people. It all comes down on us because of them. The villains don't show up in Des Moines, where there's no superheroes to tangle with. So why are all of them here? That's what you should be asking.”
At least one person agrees with him. Dr. Randall Devore is a former member of the Princeton Global Consciousness Project whose startling theories on the nature of the superhuman presence have become controversial. “It's not the raw population numbers that are really of interest,” Devore said. “Look at the estimated raw number of superhumans. Then look at the numbers five, six, seven years ago. See that growth rate? Beta City is off the scale! The superhuman population is growing at a much faster rate proportionally than even the normal population.”
Everyone knows that Beta City has cornered the market on superhumans. But Devore insists that, in the context of his work at the Global Consciousness Project, the numbers convey a deeper meaning.
“Dean Radin [of the Boundary Institute] has done some amazing work in time-reversed human experience,” Devore said. “He's provided experimental proof that people begin to react to things at least a few seconds before they happen. We know this applies at the global level as well – global linguistic shifts have been observed in advance of big events like 9/11 and the Asian tsunami of 2004. What that means is that in small, unconscious ways – which only add up if you monitor a huge number of communications – people start talking about these events before they happen. We actually have some demonstrable collective precognitive awareness.”
“Now,” Devore continued, becoming more animated, “consider the Earth as one huge global organism. Just like us, it's made up of smaller organisms. What role would the superhumans play in that organism, do you think?”
Confronted with the inevitable shrug, Devore smiles. “I think they're sort of like white blood cells,” he said. “They're sent to combat extraordinary menaces, infections that threaten the global organism itself. So what does it mean that this global life-form, with limited awareness of the near future, is concentrating so much of this kind of resource in one location?”
Devore's expression grew more serious as he continued. “I think it means that something is coming,” he said. “An existential threat so serious that it justifies the creation of this dense 'superhuman shield' over one small area. And whatever it is that's coming, Beta City is going to be right at its epicenter. Maybe that's even why the flood happened. Maybe the area had to be leveled, so that a new city could be built as a defensive center.”
It is Devore's turn to shrug helplessly when asked what this planetary threat might be. “There's no way to know,” he admits. “The only evidence we have is anecdotal. But once you start looking – once you start collecting stories from people in this city – there are so many potential threats, it's hard to settle on just one.” Waving a stack of file folders about, he adds, “Look at these. Read any four, and you’ll be amazed Beta City is still standing. But if we keep looking, I’m sure we’ll find a pattern. We just have to find it in time.”
The menaces catalogued in Dr. Devore’s folders, and presented in the pages that follow, are indeed enough to give pause to even the most jaded Beta City native. The presence or absence of a pattern, however, we leave to the individual reader to decide.
Gladstone MacComber is the culture correspondent for the Beta City Tribune, as well as the bestselling author of Blink: The Power of Teleporting Without Teleporting.
On that day in 2001, Lake Erie unexpectedly flooded. Somehow the shallowest of the Great Lakes permanently overflowed its banks, inundating the city of Cleveland and much of northern Ohio. Thousands perished in the flood and its aftermath. The disaster was never fully explained; theories varied from freak seiches to terrorist attacks to a karmic comeuppance for pollution. Eventually, the scientific community agreed that some kind of heretofore unknown seismic event caused the lake’s expansion. The portion of Cleveland remaining above water became known as Lightfoot Island. Camp Beta, built on the shores of the newly-expanded Lake Erie as a temporary shelter for refugees, quickly became the permanent settlement now known as Beta City.
Four years later, waterborne disaster struck the United States again as Hurricane Katrina devastated New Orleans. Over eighty percent of the city became flooded, and nearly two thousand are known to have died in the hurricane, the floods and the humanitarian tragedy that followed.
New Orleans saw its population decrease by more than half, and has yet to fully recover. Beta City, on the other hand, started at zero but is today a thriving metropolis, larger than Cleveland at its pre-flood size.
Why? Why should a city only partially flooded repopulate more slowly than a place built up literally from nothing?
The people of Beta City have had more time to recover, certainly. But their return came almost instantly, and in spite of a lack of understanding of the flood’s causes that continues to this day. No one can guarantee that another anomalous seismic event will not wreak further havoc, and there is no known way to guard against a reoccurrence. But census numbers there show immediate, unprecedented growth that simply has not reoccurred in New Orleans, where stronger levees and a more responsive government can at least mitigate future disasters.
Beta City's superhuman population is almost universally cited as the difference. Beta is well-known, of course, as the unofficial “superhuman capital of the world.” And with the assistance of superhumans, many novel construction techniques and materials were pioneered. Beta City rose more quickly than any permanent community in modern memory. But while the superhuman community did flock to Beta City in the wake of its disaster, most did not actually reside there until after the city’s recovery was well underway. So they alone cannot be responsible for the amazing population explosion on the shores of Lake Erie.
Something unique has happened in Beta City, but beyond the obvious – the massively disproportionate superhuman presence – no one seems to agree on just what the cause may be.
Police Chief Ward Fitzpatrick, a holdover from the administration of former Mayor Frank Giuseppe, gives his explanation with a mustachioed chuckle. “People keep coming here because it's safe – because we put the bad guys in jail,” he said. “It doesn't take superguys in capes and pantyhose to get the job done. You just have to have the will to act, no matter the consequences. Mayor Giuseppe knew when to let the dogs off the chain. This new lady, we'll see.
Sandra Ellington was elected Beta City's mayor in 2006 in a surprise victory over Giuseppe's law-and-order incumbency. Ellington, a charismatic but relatively inexperienced politician, ran on a campaign cautiously supportive of the city's vigilante heroes. “It's true that part of the reason Beta City has flourished is that we've kept our people safe,” Mayor Ellington admitted, in a nod to the more extreme law enforcement tactics of her predecessor. “It's also true that the time has come to take a look at how we treat the people who volunteer to risk their lives to protect us. Look at the contributions our superhuman protectors have made since 2001. They deserve better than to be classified as outlaw vigilantes.”
While some claim that Ellington owes a debt to unregistered superhumans for stepping in when supposedly-confidential registration information was used to neutralize police-approved heroes, Ellington dismisses such criticism quickly. “That's just the paranoid conservative-dominated media franchise talking,” she said. “The only obligation I'm trying to satisfy is my duty to keep the people safe without trampling on their rights.”
At least one of Mayor Ellington's critics can't be classified as part of the “conservative-dominated media franchise.” Grant Warren, a former campaign aide to the moderate Ellington, has dramatically parted ways with his former employer.
“If more people are coming to Beta City, it's either to serve as some kind of disposable substrate for the next stage of evolution, or because people are just stupid,” Warren insists. “Why would anyone want to live here? Do you know what insurance rates are like in a city that's regularly trampled by giant monsters?”
According to a high-level member of the Mayor's staff, Warren's perspective shift has something to do with being badly beaten and strung from a lamppost by a silver-clad vigilante, all for trying to buy a small amount of marijuana. After he was found and cut down by the police, Warren was prosecuted and is still on probation.
When his legal history is brought into question, Mr. Warren becomes even more vehement. “It's all because of the damned superheroes, you know,” Warren said. “Everything. They bring it all with them. The bastards act like they're saving us, but without their enablers, their so-called villains, they have no reason to exist. Just living in the same city with them is a mortal danger to us normal people. It all comes down on us because of them. The villains don't show up in Des Moines, where there's no superheroes to tangle with. So why are all of them here? That's what you should be asking.”
At least one person agrees with him. Dr. Randall Devore is a former member of the Princeton Global Consciousness Project whose startling theories on the nature of the superhuman presence have become controversial. “It's not the raw population numbers that are really of interest,” Devore said. “Look at the estimated raw number of superhumans. Then look at the numbers five, six, seven years ago. See that growth rate? Beta City is off the scale! The superhuman population is growing at a much faster rate proportionally than even the normal population.”
Everyone knows that Beta City has cornered the market on superhumans. But Devore insists that, in the context of his work at the Global Consciousness Project, the numbers convey a deeper meaning.
“Dean Radin [of the Boundary Institute] has done some amazing work in time-reversed human experience,” Devore said. “He's provided experimental proof that people begin to react to things at least a few seconds before they happen. We know this applies at the global level as well – global linguistic shifts have been observed in advance of big events like 9/11 and the Asian tsunami of 2004. What that means is that in small, unconscious ways – which only add up if you monitor a huge number of communications – people start talking about these events before they happen. We actually have some demonstrable collective precognitive awareness.”
“Now,” Devore continued, becoming more animated, “consider the Earth as one huge global organism. Just like us, it's made up of smaller organisms. What role would the superhumans play in that organism, do you think?”
Confronted with the inevitable shrug, Devore smiles. “I think they're sort of like white blood cells,” he said. “They're sent to combat extraordinary menaces, infections that threaten the global organism itself. So what does it mean that this global life-form, with limited awareness of the near future, is concentrating so much of this kind of resource in one location?”
Devore's expression grew more serious as he continued. “I think it means that something is coming,” he said. “An existential threat so serious that it justifies the creation of this dense 'superhuman shield' over one small area. And whatever it is that's coming, Beta City is going to be right at its epicenter. Maybe that's even why the flood happened. Maybe the area had to be leveled, so that a new city could be built as a defensive center.”
It is Devore's turn to shrug helplessly when asked what this planetary threat might be. “There's no way to know,” he admits. “The only evidence we have is anecdotal. But once you start looking – once you start collecting stories from people in this city – there are so many potential threats, it's hard to settle on just one.” Waving a stack of file folders about, he adds, “Look at these. Read any four, and you’ll be amazed Beta City is still standing. But if we keep looking, I’m sure we’ll find a pattern. We just have to find it in time.”
The menaces catalogued in Dr. Devore’s folders, and presented in the pages that follow, are indeed enough to give pause to even the most jaded Beta City native. The presence or absence of a pattern, however, we leave to the individual reader to decide.
Gladstone MacComber is the culture correspondent for the Beta City Tribune, as well as the bestselling author of Blink: The Power of Teleporting Without Teleporting.