Miracle Monday (12 page)

There
are
a
number
of
things
to
note
for
this
journal,
concerning
events
which
have
occurred
since
my
last
entry
several
weeks
ago.
These
include,
firstly,
my
acquaintance
with
a
very
interesting
woman
named
Lena
Thorul;
secondly,
certain
events
which
have
happened
of
late
that
correspond
with
historical
occurrences
leading
up
to
the
events
of
Miracle
Monday;
and
thirdly,
a
general
feeling
of
belonging
and
well-being
that
I
have
felt
for
the
past
three
days
since
I
spent
a
social
evening
with
Superman,
in
his
secret
identity,
and
a
number
of
his
friends.

Lena
Thorul
is
a
schoolteacher
of
Lois
Lane's
acquaintance
who
has
taken
a
sabbatical
from
her
job
and
is
spending
the
year
in
Metropolis
writing
a
book
about
her
experiences
as
a
psychic.
Her
abilities
in
this
area,
I
noted
upon
meeting
her,
are
quite
real,
although
she
has
made
no
conscious
effort
to
develop
and
refine
them.
Ms.
Thorul
made
a
few
serious
errors
in
her
evaluation
of
my
own
current
frame
of
mind.
She
said,
for
example,
that
there
were
two
strong
opposing
forces
battling
for
control
of
my
psyche
at
the
moment,
and
that
this
inner
conflict
is
causing
confusion
and
emotional
imbalance.
This
is
sheer
nonsense,
of
course.
I
was
chosen
for
this
assignment,
in
part,
because
of
uncommon
emotional
stability,
and
as
any
fool
can
see,
I
feel
quite
directed
and
fulfilled
at
the
moment.
 

I
am
more
interested
in
Ms.
Thorul,
however,
because
of
the
sense
I
had
upon
meeting
her
that
she
was
somehow
familiar.
I
thought
at
first
that
she
might
be
a
sightseer
or
another
historian
from
my
own
time,
here
to
look
in
on
the
upcoming
historic
events,
and
I
looked
up
her
name
in
a
book
I
was
able
to
bring
with
me
from
the
twenty-ninth
century.
Of
course,
it
is
a
terrible
security
risk
to
place
any
artifact
of
the
future
in
a
previous
time
period,
but
I
received
special
permission
to
bring
one
that
I
have
since
found
invaluable:
Michael
Fleischer's
twenty-first-century
work,
The
Encyclopedia
of
Supermanic
Biography
,
which
contains
a
brief
alphabetical
reference
to
every
person
and
event,
and
an
outline
of
the
major
writings,
that
concern
Superman,
as
far
as
scholars
were
able
to
determine
during
the
century
following
his
arrival
on
Earth.
My
copy
is
the
abridged
one-volume
edition,
but
it
does
have
a
reference
to
the
name
Thorul
,
to
wit:
 

Anagram
of
the
word
Luthor
,
adopted
as
the
legal
surname
of
Jules
and
Arlene
Luthor,
parents
of
Lex
Luthor
[Cf.
Luthor,
Lex
and
other
refs.
as
noted]
during
the
final
twelve
years
of
their
lives,
following
the
first
incarceration
of
their
fourteen-year-old
son
at
the
East
Kansas
Juvenile
Reformatory.
Jules
and
Arlene
Thorul
were
killed
in
an
automobile
accident
in
Midvale,
Vermont,
and
were
survived
by
their
estranged
son
and
a
seventeen-year-old
daughter.
 

There
is
no
mention
in
my
edition
of
the
daughter's
name,
but
Lena
Thorul
is
approximately
the
correct
age.
 

If
Ms.
Thorul,
an
empathetic
psychic,
is
in
fact
the
younger
sister
of
Lex
Luthor
but
does
not
know
it,
then
it
is
reasonable
to
assume
that
she
is
likely
to
be
high-strung
during
a
period
immediately
following
a
mysterious
prison
escape
by
her
unknown
brother.
Such
an
escape
occurred
three
nights
ago,
and
last
night,
when
I
met
Ms.
Thorul,
here
immediate
reaction
to
me
was
extraordinary.
She
swooned
and
fainted.
When
she
revived
she
said
that
she
had
mistaken
me
for
something
else,
and
could
not
remember
what.
Ordinarily,
such
a
greeting
from
a
psychic
might
be
some
cause
for
alarm,
but
in
this
particular
case
it
was,
of
course,
an
extension
of
her
unseen
anxiety
over
Luthor.
I
will
be
working
for
Ms.
Thorul
two
days
a
week.
 

My
second
area
of
concern
is
corroboration
of
events
recorded
in
my
own
historical
training
with
those
that
are
actually
happening
around
me.
 

Excuse
me,
I
was
daydreaming
for
a
moment.
Actually,
I
have
a
list
of
events
somewhere.
Plagues,
natural
disasters,
milk
shortages,
that
sort
of
thing.
We
all
learned
about
them
in
history
classes
ever
since
the
age
of
five.
Or
six
or
something.
 

I
did
say
excuse
me,
didn't
I?
That's
silly,
of
course,
since
there's
no
one
to
say
excuse
me
to.
Or
is
that,
"to
whom
to
say
excuse
me"?
I
seem
to
be
forgetting
basic
twentieth-century
grammar.
Eighteenth
to
twenty-first
century
American
social
history
is
my
field
of
expertise,
you
know.